The Carpet Cleaner
by Marigold Winters
Summary: "I don't like sharing Melinda." He said to me with the kind of intensity best reserved for the bedroom. I closed my eyes, regulated my breathing, and tried not to pass out. Breathe in, and out. Oh I was so screwed. So, so screwed.
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1 and 2 because I'm obssessed with OCs like that. Nevermind the millions of unfinished fics languishing on my profile... anyway could someone shout out if she gets too Mary-Sueish? Please and thank you.**_

**_I disclaim._**

**_~Mari_**

* * *

_Prologue;_

Before all else, my father was a businessman. He had spent his whole life building Redman industries, toiling endlessly on products and meetings and business trips and unco-operative clients, but I think he met his match in Mr. Ootori. He was a little like my father, I suppose. He had a strong, commanding presence about him and a look in his eye that would certainly be frightening if it was turned towards you. But he was also distant. Father had never been a distant man. Preoccupied, yes. Busy? Oh yes. But never quite distant. It would've been easy for us to have grown apart, but somehow he was always _there_.

My mother was quite a different story altogether. She was quite a shrewd woman- I loved talking to her. She seldom spoke, however when she did her tongue was brusque and cutting. She never missed a trick. She was also quite a beautiful woman. Long, long lashes, a soft, round face, and deep brown eyes. Laureli Redmond. Even her name was elegant. She was a social worker. She hated it, I think. I don't know exactly how she ever got pushed into it, but she was quite obviously not a 'people person' as my nanny called it. She was one of the strongest women I knew.

Which is why it was quite shocking and somewhat surreal when I found out she had AIDS. It didn't compute with the image of the unshakeable pillar of strength she was in my head. Sometimes it was really easy for me to forget she was just human. The two years before she died were the two best years of my life. Frequently father would simply drop everything and come back home to see us. Or better yet, he would take us with him. To Paris, Italy, Beijing. All around the world. Anywhere she wanted to go. I knew mum more in those two years than the fourteen previous.

I said as much at her funeral. Mr. Ootori was there. Along with his two sons and other business men whom my father was acquainted with and in whom I had no interest. Just as they had very little interest in me. The wake was a farce. There were people loudly bemoaning her loss and crying very hard whilst carefully not shedding a single tear lest they ruin their make up. I left early and hid in the garden for about an hour, clutching a bottle of stolen whiskey and trying to work up the nerve to actually down it. Eventually I gave it up as a lost cause, bowing in defeat at the image of my mother's disapproval in my mind's eye.

I did go back, when I was sure most people were to drunk to care much about being overly polite. Small talk was frustrating when you were as exhausted as I was. I went to say goodnight to my father, swaying a little because in the end, I had managed a few rather large burning sips of the alcohol and was quickly discovering I had no tolerance for such things.

"Goodnight, dad." I said and stooped to kiss him. He jerked back, nose crinkling at the smell and looked at me pointedly. There would be trouble in the morning, but after a moment he nodded and offered his cheek. I noticed his eyes were a little red. So he _did_ cry. Somehow, it made me feel better.

Mr. Ootori was sitting on the large sofa across from father's armchair with his sons on either side. Looking detached and emotionless. His sons strived for the look too, but there was something in the tenseness of their shoulders and the rigid set of their jaws that told me their stoniness was put on. For their father's sake maybe. The one on his left, the younger one, kept fidgeting. Obviously quite uncomfortable.

"Sir." I bobbed briefly, forgetting for a moment that this was the twenty-first century and only mum still believed... _had_ still believed that girls should do that sort of thing. He nodded back slightly. And stood, towering over me, and his two sons followed automatically like mindless robots.

"You have a lovely home Richard, but I'm afraid must take my leave. There are a few matters of pressing urgency which must be attended before I return home."

"Ah," Father stood, politely. "By all means, its quite late. I'm just about ready to turn in myself." He turned to me thoughtfully. So did Mr. Ootori. Suddenly I felt like I was being scrutinized. Like I was being measured under the gaze of these two giants, and I did not like it in the slightest. I tugged slightly on the sleeve of the- suddenly too tight- dress I was wearing. Black of course. I didn't look away though. Once dad had told me that the corporate world was like that. If you flinched, you lost. Like wolves fighting for dominance.

I twitched a little, but didn't look away. Mr. Ootori nodded at me in what might have been approval, but I was far too scared to understand. Hands were shaken, pleasantries exchanged, staring contests held, and finally father let me go with a brief and cryptic, 'We have much to discuss', and a meaningful look shared with Mr. Ootori that I had not the time nor will to decipher.

That was the first night I ever had nightmares. They chased me throughout the whole night, and when I finally woke up at three a.m, dizzy and sweating, I couldn't remember anything except that I had been alone. And my large, lavish, empty house quietly taunted me as I lay in the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two. I bareley make it this far so yay, I'm on a roll!**

**I disclaim. Again.**

**~Mari**

* * *

"How long will you be gone?" I asked, trying to decide whether to move my queen or not. Father would win, regardless, but I refused to admit defeat. I would checkmate one day. I just knew it. He was watching my intense concentration with open amusement.

"A while." He hedged. I picked up my poor neglected knight on the left side of the board. Not that I knew what I was doing. "You can't move the pieces anywhere you like you know." I looked up and blinked.

"Says who? Anyway, how long is 'a while'?"

"A year." My hand lost its grip and the precious glass pieces clattered to the floor as I looked at him. Wide eyed, incredulous.

"Excuse me?"

He looked at me apologetically. "I know, but I will not, however force you to uproot yourself. I think you'll get pretty sick of moving around after a while. I know you, you'd go stir-crazy at all this pretentious carrying on. It could be worse for your 'development'."

God, I hated psychologists.

"So could being left behind." I point out calmly, whilst my organs decided to be rebellious little buggers and try to force their way out of my body via my mouth.

"True." He conceded. Fixing me with a hard stare. "But can you handle it? Japan is very different from anything you've ever known. There's no guarantee that even after everything we'll end up coming back here."

"All the more reason to go with you then." I was adamant. "Besides, I've always wanted to try sushi." I grinned at him. It was woefully tired and kind of weak but he just collected the fallen chess pieces on the ground then lifted me into a hug.

"And the Japanese restaurant just down the road wasn't good enough for you?"

I turned my nose up. A strikingly accurate parody of the type of people who frequently made my acquaintance through him. "Father!" I whispered, scandalized. "That's commoner's food."

He threw his head back and laughed.

* * *

"Why did I come here?" I moaned into my champagne glass. Flilled with apple juice, but nobody had to know. "I hate this, hate meeting vapid people and their vapid ideals and their... vapid pretentiousness!"

"No. Tell us how you really feel." Danyl was bored. She'd lost her sister to the heavily perfumed crowd long ago and was now contenting herself by being my protector and galring at anybody who so much as looked at me. Not that I was generally anti-social, but someties it was nice to have a eason not to talk to people.

"Like you aren't worse than I am." I chuckled. "You're simply... not as vocal."

"And therin lies your problem." She smiled, lounging on the sofa in designer jeans and blouse and generally looking impeccable in all her artistic chaos. "You're far too perceptive. Don't let it get to you."

"Bit late for that." I shook my head at the glittering mass of people. People laughing, people smiling, people attempting to flirt with my father. I pursed my lips.

_'She's as dull as a cradboard box and looks like a hippo squashed her face.'_ I heard my mothers sharp voice in my ear. _'He'd have to be deaf, blind and utterly senseless to even consider that vulture.'_ And indeed he did look more than a little uncomfortable with the rather overbearing duchess. Firmly detatching herself from her claws and leaving her in the company of her husband.

_'See?'_ Her smug voice petered into nothingness. I smiled.

"So what's this I hear about Japan?" Danyl arched one sculpted eyebrow. "Not planning to forsake us for the simple life yet,  
are you?" Her mouth curled in distatste. She'd never quite forgiven me for confiding I planned to eventually give this all up and retire to some little corner of England to become a 'hermit'.

"News travels fast." I murmured. "But yes, its true I suppose. I'm leaving at the end of the school year. I just need to finish my exams and try for a few entrance exams."

"Ouran or Lobelia?"

"Most likely Ouran." I mused. "I doubt mother would ever forgive me if she knew I'd subjected myself to an all girls' school." I smiled. "Why? You have a preference?"

Danyl just smiled knowingly. "I certainly do."

After a moment of shock I chuckled to myself. "Is that so? And what might that be?"

She looked at me and smiled. "You are the only person I know who would laugh. You are also the only person I know who wouldn't disown me."

"Me?" I snorted. I didn't answer immediately. "I'm still unsure whether I'm predominantly male or female, never mind something so complex as sexuality."

She held out a hand to me. "Well, allow me to make my case then."

I set down my glass and took her hand, laughing as she twirled me around on the floor and knowing this would probably be the last time I'd see her for a long time. People stared, of course. High society had practically made it an art. But really, nobody was upset, girls dancing together was common enough. True, not usually when there's so much testosterone present but those were just details.

"Don't forget me, okay Mel?"

I looked at Danyl for a second. Closest thing to a friend I think I'd ever had. Her face would mix with these people soon enough. I'd move on and start a new life, become a new person. She'd stay and slowly get caught up in the empty glamour and lavish promises. Then, when she realized there was more to life, she'd be married. And the door to her gilded cage would be quite firmly locked. Or worse, she'd never realize. Danyl's eyes were blue, I realized. Blue like tears. How very appropriate.

"I won't forget." I lied.

"Your daughter is quite lovely. She looks more like her mother every day." Richard looked at the intimidating Japanese man and felt nothing but camraderie.

"She does yes. She's stubborn like her as well- I'm sure I was never so headstrong as a child."

Mr Ootori raised a skeptical brow. "I hope you're not willing to bet money on it. You forget, we went to school together."

"Forget? I wish." The two men shared a silent moment of quiet recollection. Not sombre or melancholy, just companionable. The head of Redmond industries stared at his daughter twirling around on the floor, smiling and behaving, for once, like a teenage girl instead of a thirty year old woman.

"I worry for her sometimes." He sipped his wine. It was too sweet. "She's too fragile. Exactly like her mother, I seldom kow what she's thinking or what she wants or needs."

"As it should be." Was the quiet response. "Neither does she. Allow her to grow, and I'll do my best to care for her in your absence. Ouran?"

"Yes."

"My youngest son attends that school." He nodded approvingly. "I'll ensure her wellbeing Richard, she's very capable of surviving on her own, but she won't have to."

"Arigatou."

"Redmond, please do not attempt Japanese without any proper knowledge of the subject."

"Hai, sensei." Ootori rolled his eyes to heaven and cursed anime with every fibre of his being.

* * *

For all that Ouran was an excellent school, it had very little in terms of taste. Oh of course the surroundings were as luxurious and utterly wasteful as one would expect from a school who housed every rich brat in Japan- but money truly did not account for taste. That's not even mentioning the uniforms, but I managed.

Class was a waste of time. Very few people actually payed attention in class and more often than not the students controlled the lesson, not the teacher- although perhaps that was just because the art teacher was a boy barely out of college from the looks of it. Certainly maths was at least challenging. I quite enjoyed that.

Lunch is usually the worst part of the first day of school, and true to form I took one look at the entire cafeteria setup and decided I couldn't deal with it. I wandered instead. Just wasting time walking along vast corridors, through impressive rooms and blooming gardens. It was in one of these gardens that I saw him, lounging under the trees and looking at the sky. Brown hair, wide eyes. He smiled at me and I stopped.

"Hello," he said. I stared for a moment, then got a hold of myself.

"Hello." I responded politely. "Sorry to disturb you, I won't stay long."

"No, it's fine, I should be on my way anyway. Stay as long as you like." He stood languidly, brushing himself down, and smiled brightly at me. A smile that would bring any girl to her knees, a smile that would turn any girl into a stammering, blushing mess. A smile that did nothing but make me entirely too suspicious for my own good. And his of course.

"You're new." He said helpfully, curiously. I regarded him guardedly.

"Yes." I said, unsettled and not willing to be 'helpful' in the least. He seemed to get the message because after a few moments of painful silence he stuck out his hand somewhat awkwardly. That unnerving charm slipping, thank goodness. I relaxed again. "Haruhi Fujioka." He introduced himself as and stuck out his hand. I took it and smiled tentatively.

"Melinda Redmond."

He nodded and dropped my hand. "Nice to meet you Melinda." I stared at the hand he'd grasped. Was it just me, or was his hand very... soft. He smiled awkwardly and I realized I'd just been staring at him. I felt embarrased belatedly and clasped my hands behind my back.

"Nice to meet you too Haruhi." The bell rang and I realized that he was quite possibly the only person who had spoken to me genuinely today. That was sad, considering the gaggle of girls who waved and giggled at him from the fountain and the fact that even if he was nice he was probably either arrogant or too busy with people to even attempt friendship. And beside, I didn't want to seem clingy and attatch myself to the first person who shows me kindness.

That's just a lttle bit sad.

"Bye," I say and am about to leave when he asks me something very strange.

"Are you coming to see the Host Club, after school?"

The what?

I shake my head, no. And for some reason his smile becomes wry as he invites me up there today. And really I had no intention of going up. Was it some kind of code for making out I hadn't heard of yet? Really, my Japanese was good, but not that good. The only 'host' I knew of in relation to Japan were those male escorts. Like, prostitutes, except without the sex. And even then...

So when the bell rang for three thirty, why the hell was I standing in front of a music room, under the instruction of a strange boy I'd just me? It was against my better judgement, but my curiosity was getting the best of me. I pushed open the door... and screwed my eyes closed as a tide of rose petals swept out of the room into my face.

"Welcome Princess."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Not exactly happy with this but it'll do. Tell me if it feels rushed at all.**

**I disclaim.**

**~Mari**

* * *

It was every girls fantasy really. A large spacious room, tables laden with good food, beautiful artwork hanging on the walls, and just about every wet dream you could conjure waiting on you hand and foot. I stood somewhat awkwardly for a moment until I realized that the tall boy with blond- no, white hair was personally addressing me. As his princess.

My fists clenched. Charm.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my name is Melinda Redmond, and yours?" I arched an eyebrow, carefully making my face blank and not rising to the frustration I felt building. My eyes scanned the room quickly and I ascertained that almost half of the female population was crowded into one room. Interesting, I wonder how they managed that.

"Lady, I..." He paused to dramatically extend a rose to me, staring up through his hair soulfully. "...am Tamaki Suoh. And the pleasure is all mine."

I took the white rose and stared at it, flattered despite myself. He was very good, I thought wryly. No wonder the few girls sitting on the large divan which he'd apparently just vacated were staring with alternately amused, jealous and longing glances. There was a time, not so long ago when I had looked that way at a boy myself. I bit my lip.

"This is your first time, is it not?" He took my hand. I let him, simply because it would have been rude to take it back. "Let me introduce you to our members, I'm sure you'll find what you're looking for among us. Over there is Honey-kun, our Lolita." He looked fondly at a cherub-like creature hungrily tucking in to various confectionary things. The boy looked up when he realized I was staring and smiled beaticically, completely unaware of the jam smeared across his chin. "And Mori-kun, his protector. The strong silent type." The large boy beside him seemed far too old to be paying such undivided attention to the boy- but attentive he was. Even, dare I say it, submissive. As I watched, he lifted the smaller boys chin and gently wiped off the offending condiment with the corner of a napkin. Successfully sending every girl around them into fits of amorous squeals.

"Those are the Hitachiin brothers, Hikaru and Kaoru, if you prefer the mischievous type." The two boys were close. Not in abstract terms of 'close like brothers' but I mean that my face heated, a flushed red and I was forced to actually turn around because I was so sure they'd been about to kiss. And my mind just couldn't deal with that kind of pressure. "They do take some getting used to," Tamaki soothed, obviously amused.

"I'm sure." I replied a little weakly. Resisting the urge to fan myself because really, that would be a bit much. He then introduced me to the vice president, a tall, observant boy wearing glasses who needed no introduction because he reminded me so much of...

"...Mr. Ootori." The English slipped out accidentally but he simply smiled and continued in that same congenial tone his father used for business.

"Ms. Redmond, please, call me Kyoya." I nodded and noted the way he'd slipped into English then back to Japanese so smoothly. There was a mild rebuff in there which I took. Although really, when he looked like a much younger twin- no, I shuddered, not 'twin'- clone of his father, how was I expected to take it entirely in stride?

"Only if you call me Melinda," I replied with a smile. Just as charming, just as fake. "I intended on seeking you out earlier this morning but I'm afraid I do not know my way around as well as I'd hoped." I made an effort to look visibly self-deprecating when inwardly I was analyzing, watching and measuring him. Why not, I was quite certain he was doing the same.

"Your first day went well, I trust?" He pretended to be interested, raising a perfectly arched brow. I wondered if he had them shaped.

"It was quite enjoyable." I lied. "Very different from what I'm used to, but that makes it exciting. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Certainly. I find it quite charming when I travel to England and see... how you live."

Oh he was good. I could take that as either a compliment, an insult, or an observation. I smiled my agreement and didn't reply, aware that the blond boy, Tamaki, had been quite thoroughly ignored in this exchange and feeling a little guilty. I turned to him and thought for a moment I saw him... pouting? Although certainly that couldn't have been the case. I blinked and it was gone again so certainly not.

"Anyway," he perks up immediately. "I see you know each other so no introduction is needed. But over there is Haruhi, our Natural-type. Though if you would prefer the Princely type, then even a few moments in your presence would be like water to a dying man, my lady." Then my hand was brought gently to pink lips and kissed.

That, I think, is when my mind finally caught up with me. I blinked. _Lolita_, Silent _type_, Mischievous _type_, Natural _type_. People were not one _type_ of thing or another. They just were. These were not people, they were products. They were a service to the love-starved girls who went to this school. And quite a popular one it seemed.

_"Would you expect any less from Ootori's son?" _Mother breated me gently. I had to agree._ It's quite clever actually, you'd do well to learn from it sweetheart. In the meantime, buy a little time and meet them on your own ground before you make yourself look like a tosser."_I accepted that it was quite a likely eventuality in my current state. I was still jet-lagged. Regardless of the fact that Mr. Ootori, the older one, had flown me here on his own private jet on Sunday morning._ "Present company aside these people can be just as dull as the ones you left. Navigate them."_

I felt a grudging respect as I regarded the boys looking at me. Kyoya thoughtfully, Tamaki with a natural smile on his, admittedly quite princely features. It was a business, and apparently one that was quite well run. I gave back the rose.

"Thank you very much, I appreciate your showing me around Mr. Suoh. However I'm new to Japan and I'd rather not try and navigate the train station too late in the day."

There was a damp silence around my general area. It did not simply extend to the two boys before me, but the twins in the corner, Haruhi by the window, Honey at the table. I raised a brow at the looks on some of the girls faces. Not all, but some. Some who still considered the rest of the world, the working class to be peasants. Plebeians. Something lower than they were. I looked at them with my father's best stare and watched as one by one they dropped their gazes or looked to the side.

"Oh," Tamaki looked confused. " Will you come and see us again, Princess?"

A sales- pitch. I thought, amused. And quite a good one. "Soon," I said smoothly. And for once, It really was not a total lie.

*

It occurred to me as I was catching the train that quite honestly, I had no idea where I was. I smiled to myself. That rarely, if ever happened. I always knew where I was- because where I was usually involved a large mansion and a locked front door. The rush it gave me was tremendous and I smiled to myself like an idiot. The woman across from me looked up and smiled, a hand on her swollen stomach. "Young love?" She queried. I smiled to myself and looked out of the window.

"You might say that, yes."

And nothing more was said for the rest of the long journey back to the Ootori mansion. I had refused, point blank to buy a house for a ridiculously large sum of money which we'd never use after we left Japan, and which I'd probably end up alone in, more often than not anyway. Truth be told, Mr. Ootori's sudden charity had surprised me, but I wasn't scared of the man.

No. That was a lie. I promised I wouldn't tell those. To myself.

I was scared of him- to a certain extent. If I made him angry, I'd be scared. If I disappointed him, I'd be scared. If I earned his disapproval, oh God I'd be scared. But he really was not a scary man when it all came down to it. Mainly because I was not his daughter and he did not expect the same high standards from me as he did from his own children.

It was backwards, but because of that, I wanted to live up to those standards. I smiled catching myself thinking about that awkward meeting with Kyoya when I'd spoken to him last night over dinner extensivly about real estate and stocks. At least now I knew how he expected me to behave in school. In all honesty, it was fun. I didn't exactly approve of the veiled insult or the purpose of the club itself, but it was fun.

Seeing him in uniform was strange though. He was so different. So much more like his father. And I found myself having that same damn 'eager to please' reflex around him. Which of course I had firmly under control.

_"Right. And if you truly believe that, you're far more like me than I gave you credit for." _She said matter-of-factly.

'Shut up.' I thought at her. 'You're dead, you don't have any say in my decisions anymore.'

_"Just because I can't ground you doesn't mean I can't make your life hell in all sorts of ways. Watch your tongue young lady."_

I obediently shut up but wondered what powers that be hated me enough to stick my mother in my brain with me. I would never be able to think properly again. Oh God, my eyes widened. What about when I was older and stuff like sex was something I'd be doing every day.

_"Every day? Honey, when you're married as long as your dad and I you're thinking every month. If you're lucky."_

I screwed up my eyes. I did not think that, my mother is not in my head. I did not think that, my mother is not in my head. Besides, by the time that came along I'd be able to successfully block her out for hours at a time.

_"Hours! Oh Mel, that's rich. Who tells you these things- take it from me my dear. If you get to the fifteen minute mark and nobody's made a mess yet, you're doing well."_

I let my mother kill herself for a second time with uproarous laughter and decide to invest in hypnosis at the earliest possibility. Talking about sex on a public train with my mother. And people wonder why psychologists are so well paid. Bastards.

*

Sitting alone in my room I decided two things that first night. One was that I would never, ever get involved in the Host Club. I did not agree with it, I did not approve, and I had to concentrate on passing with honors this year if I had any hope of getting into the Ivy League. I'd be lying if I was saying that my grades hadn't suffered in the aftermath of my mother's funeral. Not her death, that I was adjusting to. Her funeral. That circus.

The second was that getting involved with anyone in the Host Club was unwise as well. With the exception of seeing Kyoya at dinner, or establishing contacts which might help me when I left were drama. I'd been around people long enough to sense when someone was attracted to drama or not, and while they all seemed to be decent people, the frivolity I'd seen made me wary. They were happy, yes, but I could not get involved. I didn't have time. I had a business to inherit, a corporate empire to run and a goal to meet by the end of this year. It could not be compromised.

Unfortunately, for all this to have worked, I'd also have to have made a third resolution. To stop being me. Stop being curious and interested and nosy and just generally myself. Stop being interested in people and how they work, stop being drawn to mysteries. I made no such resolution.

It was doomed to fail.


	4. Chapter 4

_**The flow of the last chapter was, quite frankly, irritating. So I've cut out a bit of the last chapter, rewritten it so it makes slightly more sense, tried to make Kyoya slightly more in character, added a bit to the end to make it longer and progress the story and, et voila! **_

_**Chapter 4**_

_**Oh and I disclaim anything you recognize. That much should be obvious. :)**_

_**~ Mari**_

* * *

It really shouldn't have been such a big 'surprise' when I found myself in the Host Club two weeks later at the invitation of Kyoya. He'd wanted a 'second opinion' on the winter theme they'd chosen. He'd asked me over dinner one night, to my surprise and his father's quiet approval. I almost thought it was a joke, but I'd tentatively accepted considering I hadn't been having to much luck on the 'making friends' front. Not since I'd decided to keep my living arrangements to myself anyway. Redmond wasn't such a big name here. I'd like to keep it that way. I needed something to do. And anyway, he'd _asked_. Kyoya didn't _ask_. He told you things and you did them. Out of fear. I was wary but I had nothing to lose. Not like I had such a busy social calendar.

I'd spent roughly twenty minutes standing around, being accosted and feeling awkward before I finally decided to do something useful. I needed to clean, my fingers itched, but the place was spotless. So I left Tamaki mid-compliment and went to peruse Kyoya's armchair. Really, that was the beginning of the end.

The sheer amount of stuff which went in that club was amazing, and I realized the necessity of carrying a clipboard. To keep his thoughts together, organize appointents, schedual trips and order flowers and decorations. Managing payments to the club, and the sale of calenders and other Host memorabilia, and just generally preserve his sanity. I looked at it thoughtfully as I watched him charm the pants off a small red head and was surprised that I felt no annoyance at it. Or anything that went on anymore. Except perhaps the twins' little 'act'.

After that first time nobody had tried to charm me. I suppose because now I was unofficially helping to manage the club, instead of availing personally of their services.

Thank God.

Sometime during the course of that week however, I'd become a sort of... secretary. Kyoya didn't say anything so I took it to mean that he didn't mind at all. He only ever commented on it once, and that was to ask whether or not I'd made arrangements for lunch to be brought to the room. Which, of course, I had. "No milk, I think Clarissa is lactose intolerant."

"Tamaki's client?"

"Yes." He was writing something on his clipboard. I looked at the somewhat clueless blond, amused.

"He told her he loved milk."

I went around the room, straightening chairs and making sure all was in order before three thirty. Heck, I'd even gotten off class to do it so it was all good. Never mind that resolution anyway. It didn't work. I had known it wasn't going to work. I lived with Kyoya for Chris-sake, it was _never_ going to work.

By Wednesday the next week, I was taking calls.

"Hello, this is Melinda Redmond calling for the Ouran Host Club, I was wondering about the assortment of flowers ordered for the Monday after next?... No not yellow sunflowers. Mr. Ootori specifically requested red ones... Well I'm sure you've done what you think ought to be done but now I'm telling you to scrap the yellow and send red... Yes, a Sunday shipment is acceptable. Thank you." I hung up and scribbled down the details quickly, mentally checking it off the list. What was the theme that day? Fire, or something?

Oh yes, the horses. Weren't they doing some kind of dragon thing? And weren't they supposed to have been checked the day before last to see if they were suitable. I frowned in displeasure. Actually I did remember a man saying something about calling me back later. This was three days later.

"Hello, this is Melinda Redmond, may I speak to Suzuki, Haruto?... Ah, Mr. Suzuki I'm calling about... oh you did get my previous messages?" I rolled my eyes, he was hedging. My lips were pursed and my expression unamused as I dutifully laughed into the phone as his lame joke required. " Sir, I hope you recognize the importance of this appointment. It would not be advisable to keep Mr. Ootori waiting."

When, I wondered, had I become so comfortable with this 'job'? To the extent that I could anticipate the next thing out of this man's mouth would be stuttered apologies. I cut him off prematurely. "Mr. Ootori has a previous engagement tomorrow morning and thus will be unable to greet you. However he would appreciate the horses being dropped off as quickly as possible. At the Ouran- take this down- Ouran Academy, at the reception just in front of the fountain. Thank you."

I hung up and scribbled down the details, looking up when I realized that most memebers of the Host Club were here- Honey was late and so by proxy, Mori- and staring at me.

"What?" I asked blandly. Tamaki looked at me, gaping. I was amused despite myself.

"Since when have you..."

"... Been doing that stuff?" The twins asked, one on either side of the sofa I had adopted as my work space.

"Since now." I replied. I scanned my list and sipped the mug of tea I held loosely in my hand. "Um...Hikaru," I looked at him. " Your grades are falling. Mr. Tanaka has informed me that if you don't pick up the pace you will fail English. The same goes for you Haruhi. What gives?"

I'd given up with the overly polite, small talk-type chit chat long ago. I fixed them both with a hard stare. Hauhi shifted his weight, leaning on one leg oddly. Femininely. I shook my head and stared at Hikaru who was glaring at the ground. No answer seemed forthcoming from either. At least Haruhi had the good grace to shrug and blush a little.

I shrugged. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but there is a rule in place which states that any Club whose members are receiving poor grades on a continuous basis is liable to termination. I do my English homework every night in this room from the end of the club 'til five. You can take advantage of it, if you want."

No more was said. By me anyway, though I received a few questioning looks. Kyoya was exchanging a faint smile with Tamaki and Kaoru just looked tired.

* * *

"Kyoya-kun why is she here?" Hikaru demanded when Melinda had left. "She's not supposed to be part of the club."

The boy in question shrugged. "She's not."

"Then what is she!"

"Yeah," Haruhi joined, a little confused. "I'm kind of wondering that myself."

"Don't you like her Haruhi-kun?" Honey asked from his seat on the floor with Usa- chan.

"Of course I do senpai, I just... don't know who she is."

"Annoying, that's who!" Hikaru exploded.

"Guys!" Tamaki swiftly brought them under control, and looked at them with that rare serious look he seldom used. " Melinda, is a guest at the Host Club." He paused to let that sink in. "She is just like any other client. She pays for our services. Not with money- but she does. We have promised to make every girl who walks through that door happy. And that's what we're going to do. Yes?"

Well nobody could really say 'no' when he put it that way. And really, nobody wanted to.

"Hey," Honey suddenly exclaimed. "Do you think she'll want to come to the beach with us."

"She won't have much choice." Kyoya cut in. "Father's gone for the week so it'll just be me and her. She can't be left alone."

"Why?" Hikaru groused. "She's a big girl. Not like she can't look after herself."

"She's coming." Tamaki and Kyoya said. In unison. And that was the end of that.

* * *

My mother brought work home with her sometimes. Not when I was very young, but after I turned six I think. When she could trust me not to get into too many life-threatening situations. Like I said, She was a Social Worker. A good one, but not happy with it. Not as happy as when she was playing Secretary for my dad and sorting his life out for him. She taught me how to organize things. Parties, events, dinners, anything really. I suppose it's because when she was growing up she had very little say in her own life. She grew up to be a control freak, in the best way possible.

She and my dad met through my grandmother when they were fourteen. By fifteen they'd accepted that eventually, they would end up together- it would be good for both businesses- but it wasn't until my father had embarked on his own business plan age 21 and have it explode into a billion dollar industry that they decided to stop dallying and tie the knot. I was born two years later. It surprises people, I think. That they were so happy together. For all intents and purposes, it was pre- arranged, and they would have had to make the best of it, whatever happened. But they were both two quite attractive people who happened to have a lot in common. Why shouldn't it have worked? They were friends, at least. More than I can say for some of the nouveaux riche, _romantic_ couples who were supposedly 'in love'.

She brought Lennox and Catherine home after Catherine had had her baby. A blonde devil child, Abigail. I loved her. They were part of an Irish nomadic culture. Travellers they were called. They came to the house every week and we would sit and just talk. They were quite blunt. The first time I met Lennox, he looked at me and told me I looked like a marshmallow. I admit to being a fat, lazy child with a fondness for sugar. I didn't mind it though- I almost preferred it to the elegant, politically correct frippery everybody I met spouted. I was well versed in this.

Telling the truth, I had little experience in.

Lennox and Catherine moved the year after. They were told that Abigail could not attend the same school I did. In the weeks before, both my mother and father had had the director of education over to tea. It was a long lunch. Nobody was exactly comfortable. I remember after a while he started to get angry. Uncomfortable. His eyes never settled.

"Travellers aren't the same as normal children," he'd said. "They're wild and troublesome and dress improperly. They will simply be a disruption to the other children's learning and I cannot accept that."

My parents stared at him blankly. He left not fifteen minutes later and I never saw him at the house again. Although when I was walking through the park, I did see a hot dog vendor who bore an uncanny resemblance to the man. Regardless, it was the first time I'd ever seen such blunt rejection of a person before. It made me angry, frustrated. It was years before I could give a name to an attitude. Discrimination; it truly is an ugly thing.

Its what made me aware. Of the way Society behaved. How they'd perfected the art of staring down ones nose and looking at all as though they were merely the dust and dirt beneath their perfectly polished designer shoes. If being from 'Money' meant I had to treat Abigail like that, I wanted no part of it.

My mother was torn. She liked having money and wealth and prestige. Who wouldn't really? But the fact was, she could not be one of them, _and_ do her job properly. It wasn't possible. So she hated it, and hated her peers and hated herself too. Not that she ever showed it. Mother? She'd rather die than appear weak in public.

_"If you'll recall, I made good on that."_

I rolled over on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Dropping the pen and ignoring my homework for a while.

_"Why are you thinking about me? You've enough time to do that in school- now you need to study. So get to it."_

I ground my teeth. Annoyed. Kind of tired, and still wondering if tomorrow's Host Club meeting would go well. The horses had arrived and the room had already been decorated with the sunflowers- red and yellow- the boys had already been fitted for the costumes and lunch had been arranged according to the specific needs of the clients. So why was I worried?

I'll tell you why. Because if anything went wrong, it would be my head Kyoya would have. No doubt about it. God, he was like a shark. He'd make my life as miserable and hellish as possible, and smile while doing it too.

A soft knock drew me away from my morbid musings.

"Come in." I called. The door opened softly and the silhouette of a tall stately person cast itself across my bedroom floor. I sat up and blinked. "Kyoya?" He looked at me, considering. Then shifted and nodded.

"Your father called, he left a message."

"What did he say?" I asked, anticipating... something. Good news, bad news. I didn't really care. As long as he was okay.

"The Hospital project is going well, he sends his affection and has also opened you an bank account here were you to need it. He has emailed you the details and it should all be ready to use by next Tuesday at the latest." He said all this brusquely, matter-of-factly.

"Okay," I nodded, filing the information away. "The florist called," I informed him. "She was calling about valentines day. You'd ordered flowers?"

He leaned against the doorjamb. "Yes, is there a problem?"

"Not exactly," I shrugged. "She just didn't know what kind of flowers you wanted."

He raised a single brow elegantly. "Aren't roses traditional on valentines day?" I looked at him.

"Traditional, of course. But also very boring. I think we- you should try something different." I corrected myself quickly. I wasn't in the Host Club. Officially anyway. I just sort of threw myself into their affairs. I fully expected him to dismiss the idea so I was very surprise when he casually folded his arms and said "Go on."

I swallowed. "Well... everybody does roses. They're nice- but for God's sake, you have them everywhere. They won't be that special by the time it comes to valentines day. In fact, I'd forgo the flowers altogether and give the girls something like... I don't know, a small teddy bear? Personal messages from the boys? Just, something different."

His eyes were completely and utterly unreadable. "I'll look into it." He said finally. "Are you aware of the coming trip the Host Club are arranging?"

"Of course," I smiled a little. "Within Japan, for Haruhi's sake, yes?"

"Astute." I think he almost rolled his eyes. "But yes, I'd like you to accompany us." I looked up in surprise. "I don't expect you to enjoy an empty house overmuch, regardless of my sister's presence and I could use some assistance arranging accommodation at the hotel and such."

I was being brought because I was useful? I almost smiled. It was something his father would have done. It was something _my_ father would have done.

"I'd be happy to Kyoya," I smiled.

"Good, I've already booked you a room." My face faulted. He'd been so sure I'd say yes?

"Oh, that's... convenient."

"Quite. And Melinda?" His tone changed slightly. I straightened my back reflexively.

"Yes Kyoya?"

"You may not be aware of it, but in Japan there are certain honorifics you use in conjunction with a person's name. Like Mr. or Mrs. It would be wise of you to learn and use them before the trip." He said, quite pleasantly, but dangerously all the same. I blinked, a little scared. What was the first male honorific that came to mind? Um...er.... come on, think. Watching all that anime should've been useful for something. I smiled, confident I had it now.

"Sure Neesan." I smiled beatifically.

He looked at me, face twitching.

* * *

"Girls, if you would, form an orderly line and exit the plane. There are three cars waiting below us. Please take your time as the stairs may be unstable." I ushered the twenty lucky girls chosen out of the plane and surveyed the airstrip myself. The boys had already filled one of the larger vehicles and were lounging carelessly all over the place. I adjusted my sunglasses and walked down myself, muttering to myself about stupid boys who left me with all the work.

Haruhi, ever sensitive offered his help quite sincerely actually. But one look at Hikaru, or Kaoru- I'm not sure which yet- made me rethink and gracefully decline.

"Are you sure?" He asked, sweetly actually. I felt my neck heat and swore inwardly. He really was kind of... cute.

"Yeah, it's fine. Don't worry about it at all." I smiled and turned back to fetch my handbag out of the baggage carrier before following the giggling troupe of girls into the... limo. Really, Kyoya.

It was in the middle of unpacking that I realized I had forgotten a very important item of clothing. In fairness nobody packs for Japan and thinks 'swimwear' but whatever. There ought to be a shop somewhere. I wasn't overly concerned about anything except the sheer amount of skin I'd be forced to show. Not that I was too self-conscious about my body. Usually. Its just, I was quite sure that all of these girls followed some kind of dietary or training plan or other.

I'd fired my personal trainer two weeks into the job when I wa fourteen. I draw the line at someone calling me 'ugly' in order to motivate me into getting into shape. God.

I got dressed anyway. Shorts and a floaty blouse my mother and I had designed way back when. She'd gone through a sewing phase. It was quite nice actually. Not exactly 'this season', but nice. I perused my appearance skeptically, tucking a lock of red-brown hair behind my ear. My mother's eyes stared back at me. I would do.

* * *

I was swimsuit shopping when I saw her. She was standing not five feet away from me, staring awkwardly at the bra rack and sifting through it as though she had no idea what she was doing. She was tall-ish, a boyish frame. Short hair. Large brown eyes that kind of reminded me of...

"- Haruhi?" She stared at me in shock, face going white. That's what clinched it. If she wasn't... him, she wouldn't have responded to his... her name.

Wait, what?

I blinked at the female... Yes definitely female person in front of me and tried to decide whether to faint, laugh or scream. In the end, I did the former two. Giggling weakly. "You're a... I don't know if you noticed but, you have boobies Haru- "

I'm told my eyes rolled back and I crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Quite honestly, I have no recollection of that whatsoever.


	5. Chapter 5

_**I'm being surprisingly good about updating now :) Maybe because for once my OC isn't swiftly turning into a flaming Mary Sue. It's a pretty good feeling.**_

_**Whatever the case CC is taken on board and responded to- and really thank you if you're reading this and enjoying it. It's a great feeling. Um... hopefully a few of your questions are answered, although for those curious about her hearing voices in her head- I can't really say without spoiling stuff :)**_

_**I disclaim whatever you recognize.**_

_**~Mari**_

* * *

My life was made up of doors. Some which opened. Others which closed. And some which I left slightly ajar, hovering at their entrance, too afraid to step in.

The Host Club had been a door. A huge door. A door that blew rose petals into my clothes and face that I was still finding when I went to bed that night. And one which it is quite likely I had been pushed into, now that I think about it. Oh sure- the first time I went out of sheer curiosity (and the fact that perhaps I though Haruhi was kind of cute) to see more of the school. Some of the more colorful aspects in particular. Because, you see, nothing that goes on in the Ootori household isn't pre-planned. Organized. Carefully thought out in advance. They don't tolerate anything that disrupts a previously made schedual- well their father doesn't- and it's tough getting used to, but it helps. When you're trying to understand them, I mean.

But with that in mind, how much of a coincidence is it that the first time I saw Kyoya- or, I'm sorry the first time he _allowed_ me to see him- was in the Club? Especially when he was the only... perhaps not 'friendly', but familiar face in that school. Oh I was bound to latch on to him and become all puppy-ish. He knew it too. Had probably planned it to work out like that.

Because now the club took up almost all of my spare time and certainly most of my thoughts. And it would be much easier to follow his father's order to 'keep an eye on me' if I was right under his nose. He had quite skillfully played me, and I had to admire that.

The thing is, the longer I spent with them (the club and its clients) trying to learn how to be 'Japanese', the more I learnt that they weren't really 'Japanese' themselves except in tradition. Weren't they supposed to bow and scrape and genuflect to the elders and just generally be... humble? I admit I hadn't exactly been looking forward to that aspect of their tradition. I had problems with 'humility'. So you see, when I went to the Host Club, it wasn't entirely for the eye candy- though I admit it played a part- or because Mr. Ootori had suggested I help his son with his 'little project', or even because of the fact that Kyoya was there and I generally felt much more comfortable when I knew he was around somewhere.

But because I wanted to learn.

Not learn humility. I doubt I'd find that in the _Host Club _of all places, but to learn how to be around people. During the day, of course I was around a lot of people in class and such. But apart from the odd comment about school work or required group projects, what reason did I really have to talk to any of them? Thing is, those first couple of weeks I was very sh-... shah-...

Very wary.

Believe it or not, I've lead a very sheltered life. My parents kind of locked me away and wrapped me in silk, hidden from the world. The people I met at dinnes and functions? They weren't new faces by any stretch of the imagination. Again, they were 'familiar'. For a long time it was just mother and me trying to navigate our huge house so we could actually find time to spend together in between getting lost in one of the wings of the palace- like Victorian mansion we lived in.

So when I opened my eyes in the middle of a small shop in Okinawa and stared directly into Haruhi's wide, confused eyes, I didn't now what to do. I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it when nothing remotely coherent seemed forthcoming, ending up closing my eyes again against the dull ache in the back of my head.

"Tell me I didn't. Tell me I didn't do something so idiotic as faint in a public place." I said blandly.

"Er… I can't exactly do that… a-are you okay, senpai?" Haruhi's hesitant voice reached me loud and clear and I closed my eyes tighter against it. Okay, yes, now that I knew, the fact she sounded like a pre-pubescent boy made sense.

Because she was a girl. I moaned under my breath, the very thought made my head hurt. I hadn't exercised the old gray matter in such a leap of logic in a long time.

"Are you in pain, Melinda?" She was panicking now. "Do you need to go to the hospital, or have first aid or-"

"Stop." I said, pushing myself up onto my elbows carefully, smiling at the bemused expression of the shop owner. She probably didn't get very many customers at all, and we must have caused such a commotion. Without any prompting, Haruhi took my arm and helped me to my feet.

"Thank you." I pulled myself together quickly, catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror and wincing when I saw the large red line down one of my shins. Carpet burn- how I despise thee. Okay, damage control time. I made a scene, now I had to fix it. I put on my best polite smile, the one I used when being all contrite and innocent so I didn't get into trouble.

"Madam, I'm very sorry you had to see that. I apologize for any damage done to your store."

"Oh, no harm done Miss. It's you I should be worried about." She looked me up and down, smiling. I got the distinct impression it was genuine too. What did father say about nice, unassuming people? That they were usually the first to suffer in matters of 'business'? I sighed.

"Thank you. I'd still like to place an order though…" I said. And proceeded to buy as much as I could carry out of the shop with me, and some that I couldn't which she promised to send to the Ootori Villa later that evening when the girls- all clients- left and the rest of the club relinquished the Hotel rooms.

That done, I turned to face Haruhi, who had been standing watching me quietly, looking down, face drawn. Like she was nervous. And I'm afraid I didn't really think to ease her discomfort right then. I'm not perfect. And if you've ever had someone you thought you knew turn around and say- oi, you think I'm a boy but actually I do not posses the correct anatomy then you know in the first few hours afterwards its… disturbing to say the least.

"I think we should see about lunch." I said finally. "Do you drink?"

Sh- Haruhi. Just Haruhi. Let's not overcomplicate things with 'she' or 'her'. _Haruhi_ looked at me like I had a few screw loose. "No."

"Neither do I," I smiled tightly. "But I hear it's therapeutic, and now's as good a time as any to try."

What a good influence I'm turning out to be.

* * *

"Richard," Mr. Ootori swiveled around to face the window on his large chair at one of his offices, seemingly forgetting all about the meeting he was supposedly in the middle of. "It's good to hear from you. How's business in Osaka?"

Richard Redmond sat overlooking the city in his suite, suit impeccable, glass in hand. "Things are going quite well insofar as I can see. Some minor setbacks, but nothing that cannot be resolved. And with you?"

"Not too bad. Now I'm sure you did not call me in the middle of the day to exchange pleasantries. What's on your mind?"

"How's Melinda? Is the school alright? I haven't heard much from her in the last week."

There was silence as the Japanese businessman considered this. "Her schoolwork, as you now, continues to shine. As for her social welfare, I have instructed my son to integrate her in one of his little clubs. An ongoing project of his. It's sheer frivolity of course, but ultimately harmless."

"You're too hard on the boy." Richard took a sip of the wine. Bitter. "You forget he's only a teenager, leave him room for error."

"He doesn't need it, I require nothing less than his best."

"And more."

"And more." He agreed.

Richard suppressed a sigh on he other end. "I suppose that was all. I have business in Osaka castle tomorrow."

"The car designs?"

"Yes," it was hard to suppress a pang of regret. "Melinda and her mother would have loved it."

* * *

I looked at the bottle of wine the waiter had set in front of us curiously. "And what is this, exactly?"

"A 1982 Haut Brion, a bottle of one of our finest vintage wines." He opened it without a flourish and filled both our glasses as another two waiters served our food. Lamb for me, steak for Haruhi. Finding the small restaurant was a stroke of luck, and the fact they did not question our ages was even luckier. I wouldn't forget that lecture father gave me about the whiskey in a hurry, but I was intrigued despite myself.

Moth, meet flame.

"Enjoy your meal ladies." He bowed and left us. Haruhi was looking at her glass like it was a poisonous snake. I picked mine up and sniffed it, testing, then sipped it. It tasted funny and I found myself wishing I had simply gone for tea.

"This tastes awful." Haruhi said plainly.

"You want to keep the bottle and give it to Kyoya for later?" I asked. "He'll probably know what to do with it. Or who to give it to."

"Sure." She said quickly. Glad to be rid of it. So was I really. My first foray into the world of wine tasting ended right there and then. The silence gradually thickened around us as we ate until finally I put my knife and fork down. The food was good, but unfortunately given my current state of mind I wasn't really tasting it at all.

"Okay, so… explain?" I beseeched. She put her fork down, sighed and started her story. And what a story it was, my eyes were practically bugging out of their sockets by the time she was finished and she was slumping in her seat. A relieved look on her face, like she was just happy to get it all out.

I carefully cut a corner off the lamb and put it in my mouth.

"Well, I can certainly see Kyoya doing that. He definitely has some kind of agenda." I decided finally. "But I really don't think his intent is malicious… if that's any consolation. He's not a bad guy."

"Kyoya?" Haruhi looked at me with disbelief. "I admit he's not a bad guy, but what other reason could he have for keeping me in the club when I could just as easily find a job and give him the money from that?"

"With what time?" I asked skeptically. "You're in school at seven at the very latest, studying _and_ you're an honors student. Academia is probably more important to you than it is to him. I doubt he wants you to lose your place."

"I guess." Haruhi was slowly coming to see my point by that point. I think.

"The only thing I don't get, is why you're a Host when you could just as easily be doing what I do now. Who's idea was that anyway?"

"Kyoya." She said monotonously. I sweatdropped.

"Ah.. I see."

We sat regarding each other in mutual silence. "So you're not going to tell?"

I raised my eyebrow, but carefully considered it. Finally I shrugged and called for the bill. " What could I possibly have to gain from that?"

Haruhi smiled, following me out of the small restaurant to navigate as best as we could to the specific area of beach we were all supposed to congregate at three.

"It's only half one now." Haruhi pointed out. "We could go back and change, see if your stuff arrived."

Oh that. I blanched at the mountain of clothes I'd bought.

"That may be wise. Um, hey do you want anything? I have more than I'm ever going to be able to carry back to England. Legally." I added as an afterthought, because obviously when you're wealthy there are… ways. Haruhi must have been used to such thinking because she only shrugged and said, "Sure."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at myself. What the hell did I sign up for?

* * *

"I don't like this Kyoya. Haruhi-kun…"

"…And Melinda seem to be getting very close."

Kaoru and Hikaru motioned towards the two girls who were lying close together on the towel. Of course _they_ knew they were two girls. To the casual observer it seemed like a couple sharing a romantic moment. A couple. With Haruhi in it? With a romantic counterpart who wasn't one of them, or part of her duties to the Host Club? Unacceptable.

Tamaki gasped. "Haruhi…" He whimpered.

"Of course, we should have known."

"That kiss at the ball."

"How easily she takes to this."

"Really, we should have seen it before."

"It was staring us right in the face."

Tamaki whined again. A low indistinguishable sound that went ignored by the twins.

"Of course, she may not be lesbian." Kaoru mused.

"Bisexual, perhaps?"

"Or even bi-curious, who knows."

"Maybe she's just experimenting."

Tamaki seemed to revive momentarily.

"Then again, she does crossdress."

"And she doesn't seem to like 'girly' things."

"You think she's…"

"-Butch? Maybe. She could just be a tomboy."

"Enough." Kyoya said, adjusting his glasses with his index finger and looking up from whatever he was typing. "Melinda is not homosexual and neither is Haruhi, she is merely enjoying another feminine presence in the group. It's good for her."

"Yes," Tamaki said, reviving from his shock at an incredible speed. "Oh my poor daughter- trapped with all this testosterone without any outlet for her femininity. Don't worry Haruhi, darling! Daddy will not this woeful situation pass unanswered!"

* * *

We looked up as one at the frantically waving Tamaki.

"Did he just refer to himself as your father?" I raised a brow.

"Don't ask." She sighed. I snorted.

"Please, I may have accepted your amazing revelation," Just barely. "But there are some things no amount of logic can justify."

* * *

I heard the scream while I was carefully watching the twins run from Tamaki's bucket of snakes, avoiding getting to close to the things. Where he got the snakes, I'll never know, but he was gleefully running after them whilst they whined about getting bitten. Over the course of the day I'd watched them take her down to the caves, lock her in an armored car, try and scare her with bugs- every trick under the sun. All for no apparent reason.

I sighed. I'll never understand boys.

But I was up and running as soon as I heard that scream. Though I didn't need to be. Because so were the boys. And by the time I got there, Tamaki was already jumping off a cliff edge and following… Haruhi down. Her body was limp in the air, and broke the water at a slightly awkward angle. Her eyes were closed before she even hit the water. And I swear. My heart stopped.

It seemed like hours. There was no break in the water, and everything was quiet while we waited for… a sign. Some form of life. Just, something. The two girls to either side of me were shaking uncontrollably while the twins mauled two… thugs. Great big beasts of men, who somehow were still no match for their righteous anger.

And Kyoya presided over them, eyes blazing in anger, flashing behind his glasses. Terrifyingly still, just watching the twins go at it. He didn't lift a finger to stop them, and in fact his own fists were clenched. Only his incredible self control held him back. The twins were like a raging tornado, and he was the eye of the storm. Calm and terrifying.

I hugged my arm to my chest, trembling ever so slightly. From the cold, or the fear- I don't really know. She had to be okay, she needed to be okay. If she wasn't then… my eyes hardened as they passed the cowering forms of the two boys under assault. Somebody would pay for this.

Only when I saw Tamaki's silhouette did I allow myself to breathe again. She would be okay, because she had to be. She was Haruhi. She would be okay. I turned my attention to the two girls. I wrapped my jacket around one of them and disentangled the other, leading them away from the scene. And it was quickly turning into a scene.

"You're a girl!" Was the last thing I heard before I ran the two shivering girls along. Inwardly I winced and looked forward to a very long night.

* * *

Later that night, when Haruhi had retired- still pretending to be male under Melinda's request, 'why cause trouble?'- all was forgiven, and they were each comfortably set up at Kyoya's Villa, Hikaru had a thought. It was quite a brilliant thought actually. And in the aftermath of tenseness of the group that evening, he felt that perhaps it was time to stir things up a little. For the good of the Club, of course. He'd behaved himself quite well in the past few weeks, all things considered, and now perhaps a little prank wouldn't be amiss. It was probably _expected_.

Kaoru caught his look, curiously abandoned his crab, and slowly an answering smile appeared on his face as he followed his twin's gaze to where Miranda or Miriam or whatever was helping Honey fold napkin swans.

" Interesting. What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Kaoru, I'm afraid we've been very rude," Hikaru said, faux somber. "I don't think we ever gave our guest a proper welcome."

"I don't believe we did. How remiss."

"We should rectify the situation."

"As soon as possible."

"Today even."

As one they turned their Cheshire grins on Melinda who at once was on her guard.

"What?" She asked, touching her face for anything that may have remained and caused them to look at her like that. This only caused them to smile harder. "What!" She demanded. Self conscious all of a sudden.

"Oh, nothing," they replied as one.

Hikaru sniggered into his crab. He loved playing with new toys.


	6. Chapter 6

I apologize to anyone who anyone who reads this and groans but the cliche wouldn't leave me alone. Hopefully I wrote it correctly though. It works with the plot and everything so tell me what you think. Tell me if you cringed or if you're a sap like me who just likes this kind of thing. I also kind of need a beta. Anyone interested?

_**I disclaim what you recognize. Enjoy :)**_

_**~ Mari**_

* * *

"Yes... I want their names." Kyoya snapped into the phone. "Their names, where they live and who they work for. And I want them now." The assistant at the other end of the line rushed into action, scared and panicked and more than a little confused. "I've sent their pictures." Kyoya continued. "You will have the information for me by morning."

He walked across the room to the window which overlooked the beach, barely noticing the slight tap on his door. "Make sure you get it right." He said. And snapped the cell phone shut.

By morning, two members of the local swim team had been dropped from their positions and lost all hopes of the athletic scholarships they were set to gain. Kyoya sipped his tea with a content smirk. All was right in his world.

* * *

I stared at my reflection. Then brought a tentative hand to my hair and swallowed.

To my credit, I didn't scream.

"Oh my God." It came out strangled. Like I was forcing the words out of my throat. I closed my eyes, and opened them again. It was still there. Staring back at me like some unholy abomination. Eating my head. It was, it was eating it. My face was swallowed by it and...

"Oh Jesus."

_"Oh buck up dear, it's just hair. It'll grow out."_

"It's white." I squeaked. And it was. Not white blonde. Oh no, that would've been _tame_. A blessing even. It was bleached. Pure white. Dazzling, eye-squinting, white.

_"Well weren't you saying you should try new things? This could be a good look for you."_

I looked at myself in amazement, hardly recognizing me. "... White." I whimpered. Mother sighed.

_"Really, repetition does tend to get tedious. We have ascertained it's white, yes. Now what are you going to do about it?"_

"How...?" I managed, staring at myself, quite unable to form coherent thought patterns.

_"Does it matter?"_

No. It really didn't. What mattered was that my once burnished copper hair had undergone a drastic change overnight and... it was even more conspicuous because of its length. I'd never really cut my hair, thus it ended somewhere mid-back. But quite honestly, I didn't think I could pull off the 'long, white, braid' look that was so popular. In anime.

I stared at myself, slowly getting used to the image. It wasn't that bad, I tried to soothe myself. Not bad at all, just different. Not bad. Just different.

I'm a firm advocater of believing in six impossible things before breakfast. If you do that, then your mind may be better equipped to handle the stuff that jumps out of nowhere and accosts you like a mugger on a killing spree. I took a deep breath, twirling the end of my hair on my index finger.

_One, mother died.  
_  
I stared at my head, this way and that, trying to strain my muscles and order them to be more flexible so I could see the whole way around. I'd heard some people were double-jointed that way, and you could be born like that. But maybe I was a late bloomer.

_Two, I hear her voice._

Yes, I snorted. And maybe pigs would fly. So assuming the back of me was like the front of me it would be easy to calculate how much damage had been done. And now that I looked around me I realized that it must've been done last night- however they did it. Oh and it was a they. I walked away from the vanity mirror and perused my bed critically looking for some kind of... evidence. I saw it then, on one of the pillows I hadn't used the night before. It showed up quite clearly against the pale cream fabric. A hair. A red hair.

_Three, there is something called a Host Club_.

I stared at that single strand of hair for a long time. Well, hadn't I known I wasn't exactly Hikaru's favorite person? Kaoru tolerates me. Kaoru is just... Kaoru. Like Hikaru except different? Did that make sense? Anyway, it was getting easier to tell them apart. Hikaru hated my guts and Kaoru didn't. Simple.

_Four, Kyoya apparantly runs it._

So was there anything I could do, really? There's no way that I am aware of to reverse someones opinion of you once made. And anyway, I should've seen it coming. I know better than to ignore a problem when it stares me in the face don't I? I had to deal with this somehow. Figure out why.

_Five, Haruhi was a girl.  
_  
I stared at my newly-filled wardrobe, plucking out a nice summer dress in surprise and laying it on my bed. I quickly slipped my pyjamas off and grabbed a towel. Mother was right, it was time for a change. The rest of me was changing. So why not my appearance? I winced, father would kill me though. It wasn't exactly a 'sophisticated' look for the Redmond heir. Much as I hated to admit it, keeping up appearances counted for a lot. It could make you or break you, and this was all kinds of social suicide.

Hikaru had really thought this through. I was impressed despite myself. I lathered the strawberry shampoo I'd brought with me and massaged it into my hair. It wouldn't do much good as per removing the color, but I wouldn't expect any less. In fact, the more I considered it, the more I found myself increasingly impressed by his innovation.

_Six, I had white hair._

I stood there for a long time, buffered by the warm spray. My head against the shower wall. It fell everywhere, stark against my skin. Long strands of it fell into my face and clung to my back. I resolved to take it in stride. The twins were, even then, people who given the chance, could be either your greatest enemy.

Or your best friend.

I sighed and switched off the tap. Stepping out and wiping the mirror off so I could see through the steam. . I stared critically at myself, distinctly ignoring my mother. She was laughing at me. Again. Not unkindly, exactly, but she was more like those Hitachiins than I cared to admit.

I made me way back to the bedroom and sat down on the bed, one leg tucked under me. Then made a split second decision. I quickly looked up hairdressers in Okinawa, laying down on my bed in relief when someone actually picked up at, I glanced at the clock on the wall, eight fourteen.

"Hi, I'm calling to see if I can arrange an early appointment.... yes, today."

I wrapped my hair up carefully in a hat as we talked, making sure to dress myself in the process. Impressed, I may be. Somewhat amused? Yes, that too.

I was still pretty damn pissed though.

* * *

Richard Redmond stared at the trees around Osaka castle. Pink with delicate blooms. His knuckles, white, clutched the briefcase he held. The small man in front of him clutched the offending newspaper in trembling hands and stared at the imposing man, worried.

"Sir? Mr. Redmond, what shall I have done?"

"Nothing." Was the dangerously calm reply. "You will do nothing until I tell you otherwise."

The man straightened and nodded. Would probably have saluted if given the chance. Richard stared out at the people around the castle. Over the years he had created an empire. A safe place, for himself, his wife, and now Melinda. Redmond Inc. was a name that spread right across the board. Hospitals, schools, food products, clothing lines, vacation spots, sports equipment- everything he could possibly think of. He had taken great pains to brand them irrevocably with his name.

So how could he have overlooked so simple a thing as keeping a watchful eye on his various employees and sub factions. Now it had come out that a chain of his restaurants- Italian places, dubbed 'The Star' by his then five year old daughter- had been cutting health corners and taking money from the coffers by buying cheaper, worse quality ingredients. Meat in particular. Which, it turned out, came from a farm somewhere in Brazil who's cattle were dying of foot and mouth. If he survived the impending lawsuits, he'd be able to survive anything.

Richard Redmond was angry. Rightfully so. It reflected badly, on him. Business, at least in that sector, had fallen by forty percent and was still dropping. Forty percent. Something needed to be done. Oh, of course people would be fired, no doubt. Positions would be replaced, and he'd have to have some pretty heavy PR control.

Then he may make it out of this, bank account intact.

He was... desperate though, because it would not be the same. It couldn't be. His stores had already been too badly hit- and what was it they were calling him? McRedmond's? Hell he hated McDonalds.

Sighing he punched the number on his phone that was by now, on speed dial. Ootori picked up after the first ring.

"Really Richard, this is becoming something of a habit- no not that font, change it." He was obviously in a meeting again. But then, when wasn't he?

"Have you read the papers?"

There was a thoughtful silence on the other end. "Perhaps I should pretend not to have already considered this already. However I find political correctness tiresome."

"I would expect nothing less. What did you have in mind?"

Back in Tokyo, Mr. Ootori smiled. "It occurs to me that both our establishments, while separately quite strong may benefit from a... a 'merging', so to speak."

Richard wasn't surprised. In fact it was one of the first things he'd considered. It would also be the easiest to implement. However whilst some things may seem wonderful in theory- he had Melinda's future to consider. His face turned up to the sky, was the time right, however?

"I see where this is going. It's something I have to consider carefully. Although certainly the publicity would overshadow this minor misdemeanor."

"My point exactly."

* * *

Kyoya was with me. It's not like I sought him out by choice, it just so happened that he found me trying to escape, and invited himself along, explaining that he'd rather not be held responsible for losing me on only my second month in Japan. I almost rolled my eyes, always had to have 'logic'. Couldn't actually say he was worried, could he?

"What I'm curious about, is how you managed to sleep through whatever it is they did." I had staunchly refused to let him see. I had my pride to consider.

"Years of practice.. ah-tchoo," I sneezed. He handed me a pristine handkerchief. "Thank you." I muttered. We crossed the road, not bothering to watch for cars in the sleepy village. "You just have to find a way to sleep when you're three thousand miles up in a plane caught up in 'minor turbulance'. Last night was tiring, I was completely out. Whatever happened to those guys anyway?"

He walked with his hands in his pockets, coolly. I wondered if he realized exactly how many girls were watching us. I'd noticed it before. He really didn't seem to... care. "Oh, nothing much. I'm sure they'll both live long happy fulfilled lives. Selling bait."

I smiled. "Really? When I spoke to their coach he assured me they'd be cleaning the pool, rather than swimming in it."

"Unacceptable." His glasses were flashing in the sun. "Far too tame."

"You think so?" I asked. "I thought it was rather inspired myself. They wanted to play with water, and now they can. Everybody's happy." We shared a smug look.

"Have you ordered the bears for valentines day yet?" He quickly switched tack. "Tamaki has insisted on recording himself reciting poetry and inserting it in the animals."

I gaped. "You're actually doing it?"

"Don't be so surprised." He raised an eyebrow. "It was your idea."

"I didn't think you'd actually do it though.... it sounds like a good idea though." I blinked.

"We need to keep a step ahead of the herd." Kyoya said. "After all, flowers are boring." He quoted me. Pointedly.

"I agree." I replied, warmth settling on my cheeks. It was funny, I don't think we'd ever had a conversation that wasn't entirely factual. Rigid. Impersonal. For all that he was a fairly pleasant person, I couldn't shake the fact that he was only associated with me out of duty. No real desire to know me fuelled our conversations. But at least he listened, you know? Sometimes, that's all you need. Even more than... well I was going to say 'more than 'friendship', but no. In the absence of it, certainly.

I looked over the water and watched the sun as we walked. There was a small breeze which blew the skirt of my dress everywhere and I walked with my handbag clasped tightly in my hands in front of me. My hair was hidden under a large straw hat. He was wearing khakis. Very casual, for once.

"I see why you picked it." I mused. "It's very romantic, if you like that sort of thing. The sand annoys me though."

"You don't find it part of the charm?" He drawled. "Most girls don't seem to mind, Tamaki helped me pick it. He thought he could sit out on that rock with the girls." He pointed somewhere off to the right. I saw it, it wasn't too far out to sea, just secluded enough to be cinematically romantic. "He plans to watch the sunset and whisper sweet nothings into their ears."

"Are you planning on joining him?" I asked, suddenly uncomfortable as I had a vision of Kyoya in nothing but his swim trunks wrapping his arms around a girl and whispering...

"Why?"

I shrugged. Striving for nonchalance. "I just can't see you doing that." I said honestly. He looked at me, amused I think. He chuckled, deep and low.

"You'd be surprised, at the things I do." He said cryptically.

There are times to talk and there are times when it is strategically beneficial to keep silent. I counted this as one of those times. I pursed my lips and kept walking, the silence grew, still comfortable and anything else said would've just been noise.

* * *

"Have you considered it?" Ootori asked impatiently. After all, it had been hours since they'd had their previous conversation. At this point, Richard was just stalling.

"I have." Was the tired reply. "I can't find any reason to oppose."

"Oh? You tried?"

"Yes." Was the honest reply. "Melinda is far too accommodating sometimes. She won't think it through. She'll accept unthinkingly once she hears the words 'potential bankruptcy'."

"She complies with her father's wishes. I wouldn't consider that a flaw."

"Maybe." Richard sighed. "Still... wait a while. Don't tell her. I suppose you've already informed your sons?"

"Yes. They're all quite prepared to do what's best for the 've been preparing for this for years Richard, it's not as much of a shock as you might think."

"God Yoshiro, you scare me sometimes. They're children."

"And that's an excuse?" He asked smoothly. "They won't always be Richard. I see your point, but I will raise my sons the way I choose and allow you to do the same. There is really nothing you can say to change my mind."

"Not that I thought it would." Richard turned off the loud television set. He rubbed a hand down his face, he was backed in a corner. What choice did he have really?

"So?" Ootori asked. Confident of the answer. Richard carefully considered his calendar. It would have to be done at a place where the most people would be in attendance. So they could make it very public.

"When's the White Ball to be held?"

"Valentines Week."

Richard surveyed his hotel room. He'd lived in it for, what? Three weeks? A month? And it still barely loked as though anyone had touched it. He made up his mind.

"Valentines day. Its strategic and gives her a few days to get used to the idea before we announce it at the ball."

Ootori raised a brow. "So soon?"

"I don't believe in procrastination."

"A wise ethic." Ootori stared at his two eldest sons, considering. They were watching him with twin looks of curiosity. Both brilliant, both quite eligible. He considered.

"It occurs to me that perhaps she should be given a choice." He said slowly, still thinking it out."After all, I do have three sons."

"Oh? I thought your heir had already been decided."

Ootori smiled into the gloom. "Well, I believe in a little healthy competition."

Richard was surprised. "You're going to allow my teenage daughter to select the Ootori heir?"

"Precisely." He smiled at the looks of disbelief on his son's faces.

* * *

The man we went to see was a remarkably dull person. He spent most of the time talking to me about his vegetable garden and how much water brussels sprouts require to flourish in different weather conditions, and I was too polite to point out that I didn't care. And even if I did, I hated brussels sprouts so it was quite pointless to inform me of any of this.

"So what happened?" He asked, not really fazed even when he saw my hair. I had to blink to adjust to my new reflection again. Trying to see the good in it.

"Hair-dye accident." I said simply. And left it at that. He touched the strands experimentally.

"You were a brunette?" He asked, bemused.

"Yes." I confirmed.

"This shouldn't be possible." He said. "Your hair would die if you tried to go straight from brown to blonde. Or white. You'd have to have several gradually lightening shades before it reached this color. Your hair is still healthy though. How?"

I blinked. I really didn't know anything about hair. At all. All this talk about different 'shades' meant nothing to me. I just wanted to look a little more myself.

"So does this mean you can't change it back?" My heart sank.

He sifted his fingers through it a little more and frowned at it. "Not without possibly rendering you bald."

I sighed. "Great." I was stuck as frosty the snowman.

"But I can make it a little more... presentable." He folded about two thirds of my hair away from my face so it fell to just below my ears.

"If I hear the word 'bob' come out of your mouth..." I warned. The color I could accept. Cutting it all off was a little harder to process.

"It'll grow out faster if I do." He said. "You'll have it for a few months as opposed to... perhaps a year?"

"A bob sounds good." I quickly amended. He nodded and draped a towel around my shoulders, turning me away from the mirrors. Kyoya was waiting in the lobby. 'Lobby' being a loose term for this guy's living room. He hadn't seemed too pleased but there was no way I was going to let him see the process.

"And, um... about my eyebrows?"

"Don't worry." He soothed. "I'll take care of it. Relax." He raised a pair of scissors and I swallowed. He waited for my assent, and eventually I nodded. I closed my eyes and gripped the arms of the large swivel chair.

Snip, snip, snip.

* * *

I walked out of the room tentatively, still getting used to the new lightness. I'd seen it and honestly? It wasn't so bad. For all that he was dull, 'Paisley' was pretty good at what he did. It was smooth and sleek and quite elegant. It wasn't what I'd have chosen, but it was nice none-the-less. Though perhaps part of my approval was due to the fact I now had a fringe whereas previously mother would have been quite stubbornly against it.

"Well?" I asked, not giving away how odd I felt. Kyoya stood and faced me, head tilted to the side. One finger elegantly pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"It's white." He raised a brow. His eyes swept over my face. I blinked. "Not too terrible." He finally decided. I looked at him, dangerously close to grinning like an idiot.

"Thanks."

* * *

Hikaru was in a foul mood. Kaoru was sulking too, but generally wasn't as bothered by Melinda's sudden appearance. They were alone in their room, with the heavy curtains drawn despite it being early afternoon. Kaoru stood beside the window, drawing the curtains slightly so he could see into the large front yard where everybody was lounging in the sun, having an early lunch before it was time to leave. Under the guise of 'mischief' they'd retired early. But really Kaoru had just been afraid that Hikaru would lose it at the table, and Kyoya must've noticed too, because the glares he sent Hikaru's way were nothing short of lethal. He understood his twin's annoyance, but the vehemence of it surprised him Hikaru wasn't usually so imbalanced.

"She's not supposed to look _good_." Hikaru groused. "It's not fair."

"Why is this affecting you so much?" Kaoru was genuinely confused. "She's just a girl. She'll be gone by Christmas."

"Well that's not soon enough. Kaoru," He stared at his brother, lost. "The club is all we've got. What if more people start joining now that she's here? This is just for us, I can't let anyone take that away from us."

Kaoru joined his brother on the bed and wrapped him in a tight hug. "They won't forget y-us. They won't niisan. But if it makes you feel better, we can still try. It's fun messing with her, ne?"

Hikaru leaned against his brother, eyes closed. "She can't take it away from us. I won't let anyone take this away."


	7. Chapter 7

_**I hope you can appreciate the fact that I'm writing this from work and could therefore get into trouble for doing so. :P But in keeping with the one- update- a-day tradition I decided to update. Surprise Surprise. I apologise if it sounds rushed. It was. But hopefully it makes sense. The reviews have been amazing, you're all very encouraging and helpful and I appreciate it :)**_

_**Hope you enjoy; tell me if you do, tell me if you don't.**_

**_I disclaim._**

**_Still looking for a beta ,any takers? Or I suppose I could do it the old fashioned way *sigh* _**

_**~Mari**_

* * *

In my experience, some of the most important moments of your life happen when you're not aware that they're happening. When my mother was dying, who knew but my father? When I first started school, who knew that I'd end up falling from the top of the slide and breaking my leg? The result? Home schooling. When I moved into the Ootori house, only Kyoya- and possibly Mr. Ootori- knew I'd end up in the Host Club?

It's how it's always been. There's always something that prevents me from being completely in the loop when it comes to the decisions that have shaped my life. Always. It gets frustrating. Imagine if you had to consult with your father every time you went shopping, or wanted to go out with your friends for an hour or two, or simply wanted to take a walk in the park by yourself. I've always had to do my utmost to avoid Scandal.

Note the capital.

Despite the fact that I'm a stuck- up, spoiled rich girl, I've been sickeningly well behaved for my whole life. Always genteel, always polite, always the perfect fucking daughter. But this… this was pushing my patience to new extremes.

I quivered in shock and rage as I stared at the mess that had been left in my locker. It had been ransacked, books torn and my coat- new, no less- slashed. I touched the gloopy mess that covered the inside of my locker and sniffed it. Cough medicine?

…Oh but not just any cough medicine. Redman manufactured cough medicine. And… My bag. Where was my bag? Looking around the floor I noted the bits of paper still floating along everywhere and following a direct path to the garden. I closed my eyes, containing angry tears. I may be rich, but this was an utter waste of money. Who in this school actually liked throwing away money like it was… do not answer that. Don't. Please. I pulled my self together with control I did not know I possessed.

I grabbed my last remaining notebook- still mostly intact- and a pen that hadn't been snapped and closed the door- I didn't slam it- with remarkable decorum, making my way to class with my head held high.

There was a trick to surviving such circumstances. My father had taught it to me when I was not much younger than I was now. Don't look anywhere but right in front of you. Ignore everyone, zone them out. Don't pay them the slightest attention. Just walk like there's nothing wrong. Keep going forward and leave them behind.

The class was already half filled when I got there. Meaning not many people were witness to that farce, thank God. But it also meant that the rest of the class was busily filling in the half that didn't know throughout the entire lesson. Forty minutes had never seemed so long. I sat somewhere in the middle of the room. Not quite at the back, because that would be too obvious, but not quite at the front either, which would've been just as conspicuous when it came right down to it.

The teacher, I've forgotten her name, was a small, slim woman with a nice figure who looked like she was suffering exhaustion. She had spidery lines of red in her eyes which I could see from all the way at my seat. Her voice was loud and somewhat annoying this early in the morning, but the other option would be to listen to the mindless gossip around me, so I actually managed to tune in.

Our life- skills class was quite small actually. Class 1-A. I was in the same class as Haruhi and the twins and various other clients of the Host Club- which you'd think would've ensured my integration into the class. But the twins didn't like me so much, as you likely have deduced from the whole hair debacle- which I was still hiding under a hat- and had made sure I knew that from day one. They fawned over Haruhi, pointedly ignored me, and all their admirers followed suit.

They had a lot of admirers.

"…new student." The teacher was saying, holding a smiling girl by the elbow. I looked up from where I'd been tracing patterns in the woodwork of my desk. Intrigued despite the fact that I was churning with so much negativity at the moment, I was at the brink of tears. Still. It swirled around me, almost blocking all rational thought. Push it aside, I thought and decided to look at our new classmate.

She was small too- I was realizing this was something of a pattern for Japanese women- black hair, dark eyes, a little plain but her smile made up for that. Her eyes belied intelligence despite the fact that she wore glasses and was slightly cross-eyed. She looked nice.

This school would eat her alive.

"There's a seat free near Melinda, if you'd like to sit down." The seat was only free because actually sitting next to me would've made it harder to discuss the morning's gossip. After a day like I've just had, of _course_ it would be me charged with looking after her. Her smile actually seemed to falter when she looked at me, but I figured it was just because of the expression on my face and schooled my features into a picture of bland politeness.

She sat down and drummed the table with the end of her fingertips, obviously nervous. I scolded myself. Wasn't that me just two months ago? Hadn't I been frustrated with how everyone had behaved? Putting my anger and embarrassment aside was hard, but I managed it. I smiled, wryly.

"I may not be the best person to show you around. I'm new myself- but welcome to Ouran. If you need anything just ask."

"Thank you." She smiled again, hesitant now. "I just might."

I nodded and turned my attention back to the class. Where the teacher was saying something about Valentines day. I think? She was holding out a hat and walking along the aisles, instructing us to pick a sheet of paper and note the name on it. I did, unthinkingly and glanced at it.

Hikaru Hitachiin. The name was scrawled across the slip of paper in what could have been nice writing if it weren't so rushed.

"The name you pick is your secret Valentine for the next week. Show nobody." She was saying. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two girls blush and take back their own slips of paper guiltily. "At the end of this week, on Valentines day we'll reveal our secret Cupids. The aim of this is to leave your Valentine with as many nice things as possible. Secretly!" She warned two laughing boys in the front row. "The best cupid will receive a prize."

I closed my eyes. Great. Absolutely, fan-fucking-tastic.

It occurred to me that in that morning I had sworn more than in the last year. Brilliant, I was now acquiring a potty mouth. This school just brought it out in me I suppose. I would be happy when we left. I was never coming back to Japan.

The bell rang then, mercifully releasing me to another class and another forty minutes of the same. I picked up my notebook and pen and tucked my chair under the desk before looking up. The new girl was still here, standing awkwardly at the desk. Was she waiting for me?

"Do you have Science now, by any chance?" I asked quietly. She jumped when I spoke but nodded. Very skittish, wasn't she? I didn't really want to treat anyone with kid gloves today but I had no choice it seemed. I smiled self- deprecatingly. I hadn't even bothered to listen out for her name, and it would be weird to ask now.

"Are you Melinda Redmond?" She asked when we were about halfway down the corridor. She walked oddly, like she was unused to the shoes she wore, hugging her books to her chest. My notebook was clutched in my right hand, swinging freely at my side.

"Yes. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name though."

"Chiharu. Hiyashi Chiharu." She said.

" 'Wise child.'" I said. My Japanese tutoring kicked in. I liked it. "It's a nice name." I said. She looked at the ground. Possibly blushing.

"Thank you." She said. "'Melinda' is a very nice name as well."

"In its own way, I suppose. It means 'honey'." I said shrugging as we turned the last corner to the classroom. "Doesn't suit me really. Besides, the name is already kind of taken… in a way."

"I think it does Melinda- san."

I shrugged, not really interested in an in-depth discussion of my name and its origins. I opened the door for her and walked in. Hikaru Hitachiin… of all the people to have ended up with. I sighed. Sometimes it felt like there was some kind of higher being overseeing my life who delighted in making it as difficult as possible.

* * *

I was roughly able to function in polite company by noon. Chiharu was still with me for some inexplicable reason, considering how stand-offish I'd been with her for most of the morning. She was very astute though. She hadn't questioned me more than was necessary and was now comfortable with talking to me after several very awkward attempted conversations.

"Mel-san, who is Fujioka Haruhi?" She asked, opening her packed lunch on the grass. We were sitting in the rose garden beside the maze but not quite inside it. She'd followed me there when I'd mentioned that the cafeteria was a bit too stuffy for me. I was chewing my ham and cheese sandwich thoughtfully, and smiled when she asked.

"Why?"

She blushed. "No reason." And fiddled with the hem of her skirt while she picked at her stir fry. I gave her a look. A disbelieving look. One that was full of many nuances and hidden levels which all essentially told her to 'come off it'.

"He smiled at me today. He's very nice." Chiharu said simply, blushing. I fought the urge to squeal- she was so cute- or sit there with a blank look at my face. Her large eyes perused my face. The right one looked towards her nose, it was quite endearing.

"He is." I agreed. "However, what does 'nice' mean to you Chiharu?" She looked startled and inwardly I kicked myself. Use honorific- got it.

"He's my Valentine." She said picking at the grass around her. It looked remarkably like she was playing 'he loves me, he loves me not.' I winced. Goddammit Haruhi.

"O-Okay," I began, unsure how I would say this. "Listen, the thing about Haruhi…"

"It's okay, I know he won't like me that way." She said quickly. Her smile was too bright. "I just heard that you knew him, and thought you could… help me?"

I lay back down on the grass, ignoring the hat when it slipped off. There was nobody here to see. I'd gotten three yellow slips for it today and a detention from one of the more neurotic teachers but I didn't mind. It had been strangely thrilling, getting in trouble for once. "Sure, I'll help. But you have to promise me something."

"Okay." She agreed.

I looked at her curiously. "You don't want to know what the promise is?"

She shrugged and looked at the sky. "You're talking to me, you don't laugh at my eyes, you're a nice person. I like you. Doesn't matter what it is- I'll do it."

I sat up and looked at her. "Really?" I said. It sounded suspiciously like she was asking to be my friend. She nodded. Blushing. Again. But it was only a brief flash of red. There and soon gone.

"Okay." I ran a hand through my hair. Still getting used to the length. Chiharu's eyes were drawn to it. They widened.

"Wow." She said. I just smiled and lay back down, basking in the sunlight. My spirits lifted and a bubble of happy was building slowly under the depression which had settled on my.

"My thoughts exactly."

* * *

Kyoya sat at the other end of the room with his brothers, not quite lounging in his chair, but slumping.

A chance. He'd been given a chance. A slim one, true, but in the last half hour he'd gone from the Ootori family 'spare' to a potential candidate as heir of the company. And he was not so slow as not to realize that the advantage was clearly his.

He went to school with Melinda. Was with her after it for the Club, usually had dinner with her. It was laughable. He'd been trying so hard, and now the opportunity had quite literally fallen in his lap. Both of his brothers were very still, carefully considering it as well.

Of course they had their own advantages. They were wild cards, both quite wealthy now, in their own right, handsome, quite a bit older than her but then, weren't girls always harping on about the appeal of an older man?

His eyes hardened, determination shining. It was a race now. Between all three of them. The playing field wasn't exactly even, but then, it never had been. They weighed each other up carefully, betraying nothing. Eyes burning with ambition.

Kyoya smiled. He wouldn't lose.

* * *

I saw the chocolate as I was passing a window, by accident. It was shaped like a small bird, wings skilfully crafted so that it almost seemed as though it was actually going to take flight. Chiharu stopped when she realized I had fallen a bit behind, having invited me on the 'spontaneous shopping trip' in the first place.

"What are you… oh," She breathed. "That's lovely. Do you want to go in?"

"Yeah, we might find something for that Valentine thing." I said, already walking into the shop. She nodded her assent and followed. The whole place smelled quite delicious, it seemed very much like what Honey- sempai's idea of heaven would be. The food wasn't strictly chocolate, I realized. It was marzipan and marshmallow and fudge and caramel and pastries and cakes and…

"May I help you?" A girl, about my height but seemingly younger stood in front of us with an apron, carrying a broom in rather large hands. Black hair and eyes. Though they were probably just a very dark brown.

"We were looking at the pieces in your window," Chiharu smiled, still looking around. "They're beautiful. You're very skilled."

"Made 'em myself." The girl smiled widely. "You wanna take one home?"

Chiharu nodded happily.

"Two thousand yen," was the reply. So cheap? I fished the money out of my pocket and handed it over. She tucked the money away.

"Do you take requests?" I asked.

"Depends. If I can make 'em." She said plainly.

"I want some roses, in chocolate, maybe three?"

The girl nodded, taking it in. She frowned "What colour?"

I gaped. So did Chiharu.

"You can do that?" We asked in unison. She only smiled.

"Sure, quick as you like."

I carefully considered it. What colour was Hikaru's? Green, was it? I truly hadn't a clue. Wait no…

"Orange." Like his hair. On a whim I decided to go for another one. "And could you make another? A blue set of glasses?"

"Who's that for?" Chiharu asked, curious.

"No-one in particular." I hedged. She smiled, in the few hours that I'd known her she'd become more comfortable with me than even Haruhi.

"And would this 'no-one' happen to be Kyoya Ootori?" She asked innocently. How I could have ever thought her 'cute' I will never know.

"We're not discussing this." I said, cheeks flushing automatically.

"I knew it!" She crowed.

The girl just watched us in amusement. "So you want the things or not?"

"Yes." I said quickly, staring at the ground. God, this was embarrassing. Didn't even know what had prompted me to think of Kyoya really, except that while I was here I may as well. And anyway, what was so bad about doing a favour for a friend?

"And you?" She turned to Chiharu. Chiharu turned to me.

"Something simple." I advised. She nodded.

"Two swans." Her gaze shifted to the lace covered table, where there were any number of wonderfully crafted creatures displayed. "In blue and white."

"Done, and done." The young girl nodded. "Your order will be up in fifteen minutes."

"That fast?" I was sceptical.

"I'm good at what I do." She replied bluntly, and I really couldn't argue with that. I put down my school bag, now very light, and adjusted my hat so it sat right on top of my head. I was self conscious, even after two days of adjusting to the change.

"It's nice, you should take it off." Chiharu said, obviously genuine. I walked around the store. Still slightly in awe.

"I'm waiting for the right opportunity." I said. "The right people have to see it."

She rolled her eyes. It looked funny, but I didn't comment. She was such a nice girl. Really, I liked her. She was intelligent and funny, and maybe a bit hyper at times, but that wasn't a bad thing.

"If you say so."

True to form after fifteen minutes we saw the girl- presumably the owner of the store- come from the back with three boxes delicately wrapped.

"You want I should put their names on it?" She asked. Her voice was sweet really, but the way she spoke was odd.

"Sure." Chiharu pitched in for me.

"I've already done this one. Free." She pushed a box towards me, 'Kyoya' elegantly scripted in blue on the front of the white box. It was beautiful. "The rest are gonna cost you."

We both agreed and ended up leaving the store with both our purchases and her number in case we ended up making further requests. Which, let's be honest, looking at the standard, we probably would. Her name was Kiyoko.

"Bring me business." She smiled, dismissing us.

"Us?" I feigned offence. "Share you with mere peasants? Of course not! We're aristocracy, we do not do such banal things."

"Out! Go on, git! Brats." She jokingly attempted to sweep us out of the shop and we left laughing. I felt like a new person, cliché as that sounds. If you want the proof, reread those last few lines.

_Laughing_. I laughed.

"I love Valentines day." We heard Kiyoko singing to herself as we walked away. Around five o' clock the limo found me, slowly driving alongside us until I finally got the hint and was forced to admit defeat. I sighed.

"Do you need a lift home?" I asked Chiharu. She shook her head, no, and pointed to a large black Toyota Prius coming from the other side of the street. Her ride presumably.

"See you tomorrow?" She asked, hesitant. Almost unsure.

"Definitely." I said firmly and got into the car. Smiling as she walked away with a happy grin.

"A friend of yours?" I turned to Kyoya, sitting on the other end of the wide seat, next to the window.

"You might say that. I only just met her."

"And you're already shopping together?" He enquired, again that single eyebrow journeyed up his face. I smiled. He wasn't condemning me, he was just interested. Took me a while to see the difference but it was getting easier.

"I know. Isn't it strange?"

"Indeed." He stared out of the window. His blackberry vibrated and he looked down, flipping it open and efficiently typing out a message in reply before snapping it shut. This all took roughly ten seconds. "We missed you at the Host Club today. You were with Chiharu?"

"Yes." I said, following suit and gazing out at the passing street. "It was probably for the best." I said, quietly. And it was. In fact, I wasn't sure I intended on returning.

"You're quitting?"

"Perhaps. We'll see." I hedged.

You see, on our last night in Okinawa I had managed to get lost in the villa. Yes. It was that large. Before dawn I'd managed to find two separate dining rooms, what was apparently a store-room of sorts and the kitchen. And the Hitachiin's room. Where I had overstepped a few boundaries and eavesdropped on a private conversation which I had no business listening in on.

There used to be some kind of saying, 'eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves' or something to that effect. I suppose that could be true, but what I heard wasn't exactly unflattering. Just insightful.

I never intended on making Hikaru so defensive.

"I'm not sure that I agree, but your decisions are your own." He said. Now removing his laptop from its protective case and powering it up, already seemingly forgetting about me. He stretched his legs out in front of him and his face was lit by blue light as he began to type.

I didn't have any reply.

* * *

Kyoya's room was on the second floor. I was staying in the guest room, ground floor, but secluded enough from the public section of the house. I stared at the box I'd bought earlier, a towel across my shoulders as my hair dried. One advantage of short hair- blow drying not necessary.

Simply giving it to him was out of the question. That would prompt all sorts of awkward questions which I did not want, or have any clue how to answer. So… would I just leave it then?

_"Tsk. Grow a spine Melinda. You bought it for him, so give it to him."_

I rolled my eyes and fell back on the bed. This again. Would she never tire of intruding on my l-

_"Love life?"_ She said. And said it in a way that left no doubt that somehow- she was smirking. I glared at the ceiling. 'My _life_', I was going to say, you harpy. But before she could launch into a lecture about 'denial'- which she'd been doing for the last few days- or the fact that I'd called her a harpy, I dragged myself off the bed and upstairs.

There was something intrusive about going into his room when he wasn't around, so considering that there really was nobody around except the two of us, I just left it outside his door for him to find.

And went back to my room, heart pounding against my chest horrifically. I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes against the peaches and cream décor of the room. Tiring. Today had been tiring.

And I was not going to allow myself to think. I was going to close my eyes, and sleep, and not think about anything except how to tell father that two hundred dollars worth of books had been destroyed and now had to be replaced.

That would go over well.


	8. Chapter 8

_**I finally have a beta! Unfortunately she's not beta-ing right now due to the fact that I didn't do that 'Connection' thingy quick enough, but I didn't want to delay this chapter. I'm weird about updating, true. Only because I find sketchy updates annoying when I get into a fanfic. Anyway, hope some questions were answered in this. Again, done at work at risk of being caught. You people better realize how much I love you.**_

_**Although likely I may have confused you further and brought up more questions. All I'll say is, this chapter is your chance to psycho-analyze Melinda. Have fun :)**_

_**Disclaim, disclaim, disclaim...**_

_**~Mari**_

* * *

A lone figure stalked Ouran's halls. Heels clicking with each step they took, bringing them closer to the homeroom of Class 1-A. It wouldn't take long. Nobody would be in school for hours yet and the night cleaners had so helpfully handed over the keys. It had taken very little persuasion.

It was getting light, so this had to be quick. Nobody could suspect a thing. The person smiled to themselves. It was almost too easy. Their target would be completely unaware.

Nothing could go wrong.

Two more steps. The key slid easily, the door unlocked. The victim's desk, beautifully clear of anything. Perfectly polished. This seemed almost disgustingly easy. You could get away with murder in this school. Or if not murder, certainly minor havoc.

A flash of white. The person smiled. Then carefully eased open the desk and slipped something in it. It had been interesting to learn that in the right dosage, the substance carefully wrapped in the package could be taken as a poison.

A sound. Shoes shuffling down the corridor. Who would be here so early? Cleaners? Whoever it was, 'sound' meant it was time to get out. Closing the desk quietly, the person slipped out of the room, and locked the door. Then slipped off the noisy shoes and quietly left.

Once outside, Melinda breathed a sigh of relief and handed the kind portly janitor his keys back. That had been alarmingly close. Her feet hurt, she was out of breath now and if a teacher had decided to come in early she'd be in so much trouble. It had been a rush though. She smiled and made the fifteen minute walk back to the Mercedes parked outside the school gates.

Perhaps she had taken 'secrecy' to something of an extreme- but honestly, when could she do it except at dawn? Hikaru and Kaoru were always somewhere. In fact the one thing you could count on is that their mischievous grins would be just around the corner, plotting their next endeavour. And sneaking around was fun. Strangely freeing. She wondered if this made her... deviant? Was that the word? Oh, no, 'delinquent'. _Deviant_ meant... something else.

"Did all go well, miss?" The tired driver asked, wondering again why he'd let himself be talked into this. It was all the same with these rich kids. Honestly. Calling him at four a.m and requesting- no _ordering _him to take her to the school so she could Break and Enter.

Good Lord, did that make him an accomplice?

He blinked away his errant thoughts. Then noted that she had remained strangely quiet. Melinda chewed her bottom lip and twisted her fingers in her lap."Miss?"

"It went perfectly Mr. Fujimoto. Thank you." She stared at nothing. "I don't suppose there'd be much point going home. We'd only have to come back again in an hour or two. I'm sure you're hungry. Shall we go get some breakfast?"

"That would be good. Where to?"

"You choose. I'm sorry I had to wake you, I know- it was too early." She stared out of the window, sleepily.

He nodded, mentally running through every 'drive thru' place he could think of. The ones which would let him park somewhere and get out the spare blankets from the trunk. He may not particularly enjoy the early hour but there was something about her which made him... protective. Probably the fact it was five a.m, he hadn't seen his daughter in months, and strangely enough she was the sweetest girl he'd met in a while. Rich girl, that is.

Yawning, Melinda settled her head against the window. She hoped Hikaru at least liked chocolate.

* * *

Chiharu was sick the next day. I wondered if she was alright. She'd seemed fine the night before. I guess you just never knew. Her absence meant that I was mainly by myself for the day and I found myself hating that fact by the time life-skills came around again and we were supposed to see what our 'admirers' had left us. Truth be told I'd almost forgotten that I had one in the excitment of buying Hikaru his parcel. Quite frankly I wasn't to bothered about it either. It wasn't exciting.

Surreptitiously I raised my phone to my ear, hiding it in my sleeve so that the teacher didn't see.

"Call me back when you get this," I spoke rapidly. "I'll try stop by later today. Hope you're better. Bye." I stuffed the thing further up my sleeve and pressed the 'off' button. Luckily it was on silent and turning off the thing didn't make any noise. I smiled innocently as the teacher walked by, breathing a sigh of relief when she just raised an eyebrow at my enthusiasm but ignored me otherwise.

Thank God. I flattened my hands on the desk and took a deep breath. I was feeling weird. Like, very strange. Probably because I was tired. Not surprising really. I shook my head and tried to shrug the feeling off. What good would it do to wallow? Just get on with it.

"You may open your desks now." She said with a flourish of her hands and a false accent that made me cringe. But I smiled, because she was a nice teacher in any case.

Ready to be 'bedazzled' as she had put it, I opened my desk. It didn't look like anything had been disturbed. My phone- quickly shoved in- a few tubes of gloos, my notebook and pen, and... there. In the corner. A small parcel of 500 yen chewing gum. I wrinkled my nose. Obviously a lot of thought had gone into this, I could see. I unwrapped a piece, and put it in my mouth. It was a little bitter. Tasted funny. No, I was not hurt. Being that sensitive would be silly. I wasn't.

This morning I had no gum- and now I did. I didn't see the downside.

Anyway, I had far more important things to think about. And look at. I kept one ear open towards the left of the room and watched while Hikaru opened his desk, a nonchalant smirk dancing across his features. It didn't change when he saw the box lying snugly between his PSP and a small stack of Manga. It did falter though, when he opened it. I bit my lip and hoped. Please, _please_ like it. He stared at the contents of the box, showing Kaoru who looked at it in surprise.

"Did you get something nice Hikaru?" Haruhi asked evenly, pouring out the contents of a packet of chocolate stars into her hand. Obviously she hadn't gotten Chiharu's gift yet. A fact for which I was deeply sorry because honestly, those swans were beautiful. The stars looked like they came from one of the vending machines.

"Oh- lemme see!" A girl sitting to his left demanded, and grabbed the box, gasping at the contents. "Oh my, it's lovely."

"Yes," He said. Annoyed. And plucked the parcel out of her hands.

"It's quite ingenious." Kaoru noted.

"It matches your hair." Haruhi sniggered.

"Ha ha," Hikaru deadpanned. "And what did you get?" He asked pointedly. Smirking. "I bet its that guy." He pointed to a boy sitting in the corner, picking his nose and rubbing what was left on his fingers into a small ball. Then attempting to flick it as far as possible. In the hair of the girl in front of him. Haruhi blanched. I did too. "Such a catch for our Haruhi." He stuck out his tongue. She gave as good as she got.

Kaoru didn't say much, just watched his brother contemplatively and looked faraway. Only coming back down to earth when someone pointed out he hadn't opened his parcel yet. Which he did without any enthusiasm whatsoever. He critically examined the jewel- studded key-ring he'd received.

"How boring." He sighed. "Hey Haruhi, you want it? You could sell it. I'm sure it'll help stave off the hunger pangs."

"Shut up." Haruhi appeared unaffected.

"It tastes good." Hikaru looked at the treat, surprised. Should it make me so amused to realize that he hadn't expected much from this excersize at all? Well, looking around the room I could see why. There were all sorts of glittery gauzy trinkets floating around. None of them particularly inspiring. I could see why Kaoru was so weary of it all. I would be too. It was disgusting. Displays of wealth without any sentiment behind it except 'mine is shinier than yours'.

Maybe next time I went out I could get him something too. Maybe that would be a good idea. Mabe it would also be a good idea to look away before they saw me staring. Hikaru was still going on about the roses.

I turned around in my seat and smiled at the black-board. So he liked it. That was good. I hadn't realized how tense I'd been until my body suddenly relaxed in relief. The class passed uneventfully after that and I stood to go to lunch when the bell rang. Pushing my chair in, I was already anticipating cloud watching by myself on the lawn when Haruhi flagged me down.

"Hey, you want to eat with us today?"

"Us?" I asked, hoping she wasn't referring to Hikaru and Kaoru. Judging from their sour looks, it seemed she was. I fought the urge to wince. Surely Haruhi wasn't so clueless. No- she was... I almost groaned. She was trying to play peacemaker. Her eyes were bright.

Have you ever tried to dissuade a determined Haruhi? Well, neither have I. Because it is _impossible_.

"Yeah, the Host Club usually eats together at lunch." She continued. "We have a table and everything. Tamaki always gets special treatment." It was a lot to take in, and I hesitated. I did _want_ to go. But I needed people glaring at me from across the table like I needed a hole in the head. Did you know lunch in Ouran was a whole hour and a half long? That was almost two entire classes. With those two? Hah. Good luck with that.

"It's fine Haruhi. I just planned on going to the…"

"- I insist." She grabbed my elbow and marched me into the dining hall with surprising strength. She was forcing conversation like a little trooper. I'd be so proud if I wasn't as worried about sparks flying everywhere. If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under ight now. Heck, I probably wouldn't even have made it this far."I haven't spoken to you for so long. How come you weren't at the club yesterday?"

"As if that's a bad thing." Hikaru murmured, but pushed the door open for us anyway. He was a gentleman, I realized. He wasn't a bad guy. Not really. Despite the fact that the way he treated me would lead one to believe the opposite. I don't think it was _personal._ Entirely.

"Hikaru." Haruhi warned.

"Whatever." He said.

"I had other business to attend to after school." I acted as if I hadn't heard. "Everything went well with the samurai costumes?"

"Tamaki almost made me wear a dress." She confided wryly. The twins looked at her in what could only be described as shock. Unadulterated shock. Curious. Hadn't Haruhi told them I... That imp. She was smirking and shaking her head slightly. The hell? I admit to being very lost at this point but pondering her motives never gets me anywhere. She convinced me she was a boy for the better part of two months- her mind is a strange and wonderful place best left alone.

"What she- I mean _he_ means, is that we…" Kaoru looked to his brother. Temporarily caught off guard.

"He lost a bet." He smiled too brightly and slung an arm over Haruhi's shoulder. "Didn't you?"

"Yeah," Kaoru picked it up. "A very manly bet. About girls." He looked to the side. "And meat." He added as an afterthought. I fought the urge to giggle. I thought the 'little devils' were supposed to be good liars. This was abysmal.

"Of course." I shared an amused look with Haruhi and allowed myself to be pushed into a chair and a plate was set before me. I stared at it. An _enormous_ plate. That seemed to be overflowing with food. A lot of food.

"Is there a reason for this?" I looked across from me. Tamaki was mid-rant but stopped when he saw me and his whole demeanour changed from mildly irritated to, I shuddered, charming. I offered him a flat smile.

"Melinda-kun!" He exclaimed and Kyoya gave me a half smile.

"Nice to see you again." He said evenly. My body thrummed and I barely managed to return the greeting. He had a nice voice, I swallowed. Somewhere in the back of my head my mother was watching me and giggling. I ignored her.

"You never eat with us Mel-kun." Honey was looking at me, voice quavering, eyes wide as he stared over a heaping plate of desserts. Which, I noted with surprise, was being offered to me. "We just wanted to talk to you. Hika said you wouldn't want to come, but I said we should ask. You do like us, ne?"

Red spots flared on my cheeks and I tried to resist the suddenly overwhelming urge to cuddle the eighteen year old. No really, he was older than me, Weird, no?

"Of course I do… sempai." I reminded myself to add. "It's just very stuffy in the school sometimes." In more ways than one.

Honey's eyes widened and he smiled a smile which should by all rights have torn his face in two. "You mean you have picnics? Mori- chan, I want to have a picnic! Can we?"

Without even glancing up to get approval, Mori swept the loaded plates from under everyone's noses and began to walk outside with Honey bouncing happily beside him. Still wondering what had just happened, I followed.

* * *

Lunch was a disaster. Of titanic proportions. Frankly, I was lucky to get out of it alive. And how I managed that, I'm not quite sure myself. We would have a good conversation going. Then Hikaru would say something and we'd awkwardly sit there for five minutes until someone changed the subject. It was painful. Like watching a train wreck in slow motion. By the end of it Hikaru had left, seething, and I'd made my escape not long after, not wanting to listen to apologies on his behalf, or analysis of the situation.

I did that enough every night.

So I'd gone to class in a bad mood and sat there with my hat askew as the teacher droned about something or other. It all went rather neatly to hell from there.

Ms. Ohayashi was the only was the only teacher we had for Business Studies. A subject I usually loved and would excel in, except for some unfathomable reason she'd taken to picking on me in the middle of lessons, for no reason, and I hated it now. I sat right in front of her desk too. So she could 'keep an eye on the troublemaker'. You don't know how frustrating that line is until you've tried everything in your power to get on with someone, and they just refuse to give you the time of day. I was on the verge of curling my hair, whitening my teeth, changing my name to 'Lou-Ann' and bringing her fresh apples every day.

Yes, 'Lou-Ann'. Although 'Mary-Sue' was a close second.

Ohayashi was a piece of work. And that's being nice. She must've been bi-polar. Certainly neurotic. Mildly schizophrenic too. She had this 'tic' that made her whole face twitch when she was angry, and always wore these ugly dresses that looked like they hadn't been washed in weeks. Heavy perfume made it impossible to smell anything though. Literally. It fried your sense of smell. And all this combined led to one very frustrated Redmond.

Yeah, 'Redmond'. that's all she called me. Ever. Couldn't be bothered learning my real name. Lazy bitch.

"Miss Redmond," She'd said, suddenly stopping in the middle of her lecture- Income. Profit and loss and money management. Again.. "Are you aware of the rules in this school regarding uniform?"

My face froze. Nerves snapping. Oh good God. She wouldn't go there. She was. Not. Stupid. Enough. To go there.

A low snigger sounded somewhere behind me, joined by the delighted giggle from an aloof girl to my left. She was usually far too above it all to pay any heed to classes- but of course a fellow classmate's humiliation was far too good to pass up. Vulture. Light streamed in from the window at the back of the room, directly in her path. She stepped into it, hands on her hips as if she thought she were some deity. I looked at the ceiling and counted ten perfectly aligned tiles before I trusted myself to answer.

"Why yes, Ms. Ohayashi. Are you?" I arched a disinterested eyebrow. Face carefully blank. She trembled a little, furious now. Oh what had I done? Why the hell did I do that? This wasn't going to end well. But I couldn't seem to convince my mouth to form an apology. It was like I was staring at the scene from the outside. Not truly connected to my body. At least not enough to control basic motor neurons.

"Hats are not permitted within the school Miss Redmond. Take it off. Now." She said shortly.

If you could take a magnifying lens and peek into my psyche, it probably would've looked a lot like a long winding rope. It wound its way around my thoughts, and emotions. Already worn and fraying. And right at the centre of the rope, where everything was held together, where my common sense met rational thought, a strand of the rope broke.

I looked her in the eye and slowly, deliberately formed the word, "No".

"Excuse me?" She turned to face me and slowly walked towards my seat. Her heels tapped predatorially against the polished marble floor. She leaned in to me. Right up in my face. I became uncomfortably intimate with her dental work. My nose wrinkled. Obviously someone didn't place much value on dental hygiene. The girl who had so anticipated a scene almost clapped in delight. Everything about her body language saying that she was enjoying the scene far too much.

Oh look, there goes another strand. My head jerked involuntarily.

"I said, no Ms. Ohayashi. I have no desire to remove my hat, thank you." I blinked coolly and stared at the front of the class.

"Do you think that is an appropriate tone to use Redmond? Who do you think you are? Are you somehow better than every other pupil in this room? Answer me."

Snap, snap, snap. Once it starts, getting used to it is pretty easy. I blinked. One left. Barely holding me together.

_"Melinda?" _Mother asked warily. A tremor in her voice that I'd never heard before._ "Mel, honey? Are you alright?"_

"Well," I sneered, "If you need me to answer that for you, then I hardly think you're qualified to teach this class now are you?"

I was crazy, that was the only explanation. I don't know why I wanted to get myself in shit. I don't know, okay? I was just tired, and stressed and utterly frustrated. I steeled myself desperately. I didn't want to be in a strange country where everybody hated me. I just wanted… to go-

_Smack_

...home.

My head turned to the right, eyes wide in surprise. I touched my cheek, incredulous. I almost didn't feel the hurt. The titters and giggles quietened to a stony silence. Nobody seemed to even breathe. In hindsight I should have known better than to bait Ms. Ohayashi.

She was always a little unhinged. According to Tamaki, anyhow. I felt incredibly cheated though. Maybe this was a sign that I needed to spend more time talking to him. At least about which teachers had violent tendencies and wild mood swings.

"Get out of my classroom." She said, quite calmly, and straightened her dress. Then winced and massaged her palm. Her palm, which had left a burning sting on the side of my face. She had struck me. Physically hurt me. I sat there shocked.

"I said out." She shouted. Her eyes burned. I never noticed, but she had this gleam in her eye. This manic twinkle. It should've made me scared. It _should_. It didn't.

I stared at her, feigning cool aloofness, unimpressed. And stood, wondering if anyone could see my hands tremble. One hand delicately reaching up to secure the hat more firmly on my head. I was trembling inside. Tears building. There was a crack somewhere. Not much keeping me up, holding me together. I was cracked. I giggled inwardly. Cracked, in the head more like.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

My mouth hadn't moved. I didn't say that. I think I would've noticed. I was too stunned to form coherent thoughts let alone sentences. And I couldn't bring myself to understand how it could have happened, let alone confront the scowling teacher.

"Mr. Hitachiin, do you have something to say?" Ohayashi asked dangerously. Her nostrils flared wide. Like an angry bull. The fact that she shook her head in disbelief didn't do much to dispell the image.

My head swivelled in surprise and I met Kaoru's even gaze. Bland. Cool. Utterly terrifying.

"What gives you the right to strike a student? Who the hell do you think you are?" He levelled her an appraising glance and dismissed her quite obviously. "It's a bloody hat. I'd advise you to invest in one," He cast a disparaging glance over her hair. "But then, you'd probably slap me too." Oh, Hikaru took Technical Graphics instead of Business, their parents said they needed to be more independant of each other. I'd overheard them talking to Mr. Ootori once. The free time those people have is amazing. Please God they never find out how much I actually know about them.

"Well you may join Miss Redmond if you wish." She was quivering with rage. "Leave. Get out of my classroom."

"Is that a punishment?" He tsked. "No wonder you're such a useless teacher." He said, and confidently strolled out of the classroom. After a moment of indecision, I collected my books and followed him out. He was standing at one of the large windows, staring down at the courtyard. He seemed strangely alone without his 'other'. His twin. Or, maybe not alone. But lonely. Sad.

He always looked a little sad.

"That was stupid." He said plainly. "Not that I blame you, but God. That was like watching someone cut off their own hand."

"I know." I said, touching my cheek and wincing. He sighed.

"Lemme see." I looked at him distrustfully. "I'm not going to make it worse." He rolled his eyes. "I'm not that bad."

I slowly- slowly mind you, his speech didn't exactly inspire trust- turned my head and offered the cheek in question. He hissed when he saw it and that's the first indication I got that it wasn't good,

"That's gonna need a heck of a lot more than ice. I bet it hurts."

"Like a bitch." I agreed. His eyes flickered to mine. He didn't reply.

"It's bruised anyway." He said finally. "We're going to the nurse, then you're going home."

I couldn't see any reason to argue so I went with him. Quietly walking along-side him down the long hall. Why would he-

"This doesn't mean that I like you." He said, unintentionally answering my thoughts. His voice was quiet. "I would do this for anyone. Nobody deserves to be treated like that."

I nodded and we kept the silence. Following behind him.

* * *

I saw Kyoya at dinner, carefully keeping my head down, cheek away from him and eating my mashed potatoes. His glasses had been carefully placed beside his small platter. The meat didn't touch the broccoli. He hated that. I wasn't really there, you know? My body was present, but I was struggling. I didn't feel right. Does that make sense at all? Of course not- I wasn't making sense. I could barely understand myself. I dropped my fork with a clatter.

I didn't know what to do.

"Melinda?" Fuyumi asked, worried. "Melinda are you feeling alright?" Her voice seemed very far away to me. A long, long way off someplace I couldn't reach. I blinked rapidly.

Kyoya set down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Melinda, what's that on your cheek?" His eyes pierced me. They were so much more effective without the glasses. I couldn't escape them. They burned like that slap. They didn't usually. At least, not this way. It was usually a nice burn, not a harsh one.

"Nothing." I said robotically. And closed my eyes. A headache. I remembered, I'd had a headache the night mother died too. I almost didn't go to the hospital, except dad said she wanted to see me. I fell asleep before she passed. I didn't say goodbye.

"Melinda." Kyoya's voice was strong, bursting through my haze of confusion. My breath was coming in short gasps. "Listen to my voice, I'm going to call the car and we're going to get you to a hospital. You're not well." No, I wasn't. I hadn't been 'well' for a long time.

"Too hot." I managed to gasp. And I was. In fact... I was beginning to think this was more than some kind of mental breakdown. I was dealing with it. I was. Had been. But I couldn't breathe- my throat was closing up. "Water." I pleaded. Fuyumi thrust her wine glass into my face, and Kyoya took it before I could, holding my up with one arm while he placed the glass at my lips. I didn't register the smell or taste of the wine. I only felt him holding me up.

I slumped against him, which he seemed to take as an invitation to lift me. I whimpered into his chest.

The last thread broke.

I looked at the table. Retreating as Kyoya carried me away and outside. My eyes made out a hazy outline of a figure. Standing proudly in a beautiful crimson evening gown. Exactly the way I remembered. Except her eyes were wide. Her fists clenched.

_"Good God, Melinda."_

I smiled and waved. "Hi mom. I missed you."

At the table, Fuyumi stiffened and stood, grabbing her coat off the rack in the living room before following us out into the dimly lit garage where five cars were neatly lined up. "I'm driving. Get her in the car. Now."

"What do you think I'm doing?" He snapped.

"Kyoya," I frowned, confused. "Do you see her? Mom?"

"No." He replied grimly. I nodded. Convinced now of what I thought I knew.

"I think I may have just lost my mind." I chuckled darkly.

There is a strange freedom in making that admission. One which allowed me to lean my head against Kyoya's chest and close my eyes. Content to listen to his heartbeat. You wouldn't think something like a heartbeat would be of any importance, but its funny, the things you notice.

The tiles were unevenly set, one of the lamp shades was askew, and Kyoya's heartbeat serenaded me. I was happy to simply lay there and contemplate my sanity. Or lack thereof.


	9. Chapter 9

_**I apologise to my poor unused beta- we really need to work out a schedual. Anyway, for the record I got caught and all that was said 'Let me see'. She still hasn't gotten back to me. But she's such a cool person, I can't help but laugh. We'll see how this pans.**_

_**Crazy!Melinda, Casanova!Kyoya.**_

_**You have been warned. **_

_**Anything you recognise is likely not mine. Although at this point you'll probably recognize my OC's.... those ARE mine. Don't touch!**_

_**~Mari**_

* * *

"Richard Redmond, you are on trial under suspicion of using MSG and other addictive elements in the preparation of your food and various violations of Health Code. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty." Richard said, unfazed and unruffled. He kept his eyes straight ahead. On the judge. The sharp-eyed Judge looked at him curiously. Over the years many people had been called to the stand. The nervous ones, the hysterical ones, the guilty ones. Never calm. Never so utterly innocent. He glanced to the right and noted the pale face in the crowd. The 'spectator' nodded. His hand snuck down to his pocket, making sure the tightly wadded notes were still there.

It didn't matter what the evidence said. As far as his wallet was concerned, Richard Redmond was guilty.

* * *

"When did your mother die, Melinda?"

I gritted my teeth and fought the urge to scream in frustration. This had been going on for hours. Kyoya had taken me to the hospital and I'd been placed flat on a rectangular bed whilst they moved around me. I remembered at one point they took a blood sample and put a mask over my face to help me breathe.

" She's probably suffering from PTSD. Take her to a room." I lay there staring at fluorescent lights while I tried to figure out what they said. Nobody was talking to me and I was scared. It was like I didn't even exist. I was fully awake, but all questions concerning me were directed at either Fuyumi or Kyoya. It was like being invisible. But not as fun as you'd imagine it to be.

Then when the panic had passed and I was finally adjusting to everything, they evicted me from my bed, plonked me into a wheelchair- like my legs had ceased to function- and wheeled me to this woman.

She said I had 'Post Traumatic Stress Disorder'. I said she needed to get her own life and stop prying into mine. She was a nosy cow. Who the hell gave her the right to ask me those questions? I didn't know who the fuck she was and she expected me to fall all over myself to tell her things? Get real.

"Melinda, you need to talk to me."

Actually I didn't. I stared straight ahead and pretended like I couldn't hear her. If she insisted on being so intrusive she could. I wasn't having any part of this. I didn't need another wannabe psychologist trying to dissect my behaviour. Father had tried. There was a reason he had failed. My fists clenched in my lap.

"I understand your loss Melinda, it's natural to react this way to stressful situations but if you don't open up it could cause irreparable damage to your psyche."

Yeah? Well your face could cause irreparable damage to my psyche.

"Things like this tend to grow when not properly dealt with."

Ooh. That's what _she_ said. I giggled immaturely to myself, cementing her belief that I was certifiable.

"Look, I'm not here to threaten or…"

"-I think that's enough. Thank you." Fuyumi walked in the room with her brother. Regally dismissing the annoying woman. I mentally sent up a prayer of thanks for Fuyumi and Kyoya. God know how long I'd have been able to last under that barrage.

"I'm not actually crazy." I said quietly when the bitch had made her exit.. "At least I don't think I am. I just don't know how to deal with grief." That's what the first psychologist said. He lasted two weeks. "I can't bring myself to trust people." Psychologist number two. Four weeks. "And I'm probably sociophobic." Number three was a psychiatrist. Barely lasted the hour.

"No. You're tired, you haven't been eating and you're under stress." Kyoya amended forcefully.

"I don't see a sociophobe engaging in something as public as the Host Club. How are you feeling?" He added as an afterthought.

"Manageable." I said, tired.

"Good, because there is something I wish to discuss with you." His eyes swept my form. "Fuyumi, would you leave us for a moment?" He didn't look away.

"Of course." She looked from me to him. Confused. "I'll talk to you later, Melinda- kun." Fuyumi took my hand and pressed it reassuringly. Then went outside to face the wrath of The Psychologist.

I don't know if you've ever imagined how you're going to get proposed to. Or, if you're a guy, how you're gonna propose in the first place. I'd been told how it would happen, a while ago, and hospital aside, it went exactly as planned.

Kyoya proposed.

Not in the sense that you expect. Not sentimentally. No proclamations. But more like say, a business proposition. Clinical and calculated. That's the best way I can put it. He sat down on the chair next to me and we discussed it for a while. Weighing the pros and cons, and finally I agreed.

Well, it made sense.

"There is the issue of 'romance'," He finally brought up. "Our feelings for each other are strictly platonic, however I see no reason for that to hinder a healthy relationship."

I waved it off. "It's to be expected. I've known you for all of two months. I hope you don't expect me to jump you as soon as the deed is done."

"Considering we're both under the legal age I doubt we'll consummate for a while yet." He said dryly. I quirked my lips in a half smile."No, I don't suppose we will."

He sighed and stretched his legs. "I was planning to propose more publicly at the Valentine's Ball. Do you have any objections?"

I considered. "Not particularly. Nothing outstanding, at least. So the wedding will be held within the year? We won't have a long engagement?"

"With the publicity your father is getting? Time is certainly of the essence." Kyoya stated plainly.

"And we make this extravagant?"

"Within Reason." He acquiesced. "We need to attract the media's attention." He glanced at me over the top of his glasses. Considering. "Of course, being sixteen that may well cause scandal in itself. When do you turn seventeen?"

"Fourth of June. You?"

"Last week." He said flippantly. I stared.

"Last week?"

"Yes, the Host Club helped me celebrate." He took off his glasses to wipe them on the hem of his shirt. "Pity you weren't there. Out with Chiharu, I believe."

My throat constricted. Shit. So that's why he came to find me. But I hadn't known. I really hadn't. He couldn't blame me for… oh dammit Kyoya.

"Happy birthday." I offered weakly. He nodded.

"Thank you." He looked up at me quizzically. "Don't feel bad." He said, amused. "There will be others. And anyway, as my wife you're not likely to forget in a hurry."

"True." I said, feeling slightly dazed, like this was all a dream. "Kyoya, does this… thing I have bother you? I know I shouldn't be able to see mom, but I don't think I can help it. I don't know if I want to either."

"Understandable." He sat up straight in his chair. "But in my experience we all lie to ourselves to deal with our issues. You seem to excel to the point of hallucination. There's not much I can say or do to change that." He was stroked his jaw thoughtfully. "It would be wise, however, to keep your spells of 'madness' to the minimum."

"You mean, keep being crazy, but in secret?" I clarified. He tilted his head at me.

"Yes. If that's possible. It wouldn't look very good if you went mad." He stated drily.

I giggled, almost forgetting the tube rammed up my arm, feeding blood into the bag on the stand beside me. I wondered why. Was I not perfectly- physically- well? I didn't understand. The vibration of my body jerked the small needle and I hissed. Whimpering when I discovered too much facial action tugged on my- already tender- skin.

"Oh yes, regarding your incident in school." He said, all business. "You were lucky Kaoru was there. I trust that bruise is the only injury you sustained?"

"Yes."

"Good." He adjusted his glasses. "You have a meeting with Mr. Suoh, as soon as you return to the school. I'm pressing charges against Ohayashi."

"The bitch." I muttered reflexively, scowling as much as my skin would allow. He raised an eyebrow in surprise. Too strong?

"You don't want to argue her case? Haruhi assumed you wouldn't want this to be public."

"I'm pissed off." I said simply. Like there was no question on the matter. "She _will_ die. Financially anyway. I will take her for everything she's got. Then my lawyers will take the rest." I imagined the scene with relish.

"Aren't girls supposed to be delicate?" Kyoya leaned back, his eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Aren't boys supposed to be rough?" I looked at him pointedly. "You're going to be seeing a lot of this side of me if we're getting married Kyoya, so get used to it."

Kyoya got this gleam in his eye. Strangely playful. A little worrying. He stood and took the two steps that would leave him towering over my wheelchair. Then tilted my chin upwards with the very tip of his fingers and leaned down so his mouth was beside my ear.

"I look forward to it." He said, hot air blowing in my ear, making me shiver. I sat there in shock as he kissed my hand then stood straight and made for the door.

"Bastard." I squeaked.

* * *

Akira Ohayashi was content. Today had been a good day. No annoying brats to clutter her class. No noise. Her class was peaceful for once. She'd known that all it would've taken was a good hiding to get most of these disgusting children in line. The way they behaved was obscene. She smiled smugly.

Her short legs stomped out the walk from her classroom to Yuzuru Suoh's office. She didn't know why she'd been called there. Probably to congratulate her. Suoh was an innovative man. A trail-blazing one. He would see her side of it. He would understand- she was utterly sure of it.

She straightened her gray dress, and shifted her scarf to the right to hide the ketchup stains from lunch. She knocked and didn't even wait for the command to enter. Stopping when she saw the little shit sitting there with her hoity-toity nose high in the air. Looking down on her. She bristled with renewed rage.

"I told you to leave."

"Ms. Ohayashi, this is my office and Melinda is quite welcome here. I invited both of you today." Suoh said tolerantly. "Take a seat."

Akira sat as far away from he bitch as possible. Her eyes were blank. What was she planning? Evil little thoughts were probably running through her head right now. She was probably planning her revenge. No she wasn't fooled by that innocent expression. And she was still wearing that bloody hat.

"Miss Redmond has just informed me of an incident which occurred in your classroom Ms. Ohayashi." He looked at her seriously. " She said you struck her. Is that true?"

"Yes." It didn't occur to her to lie. Was that all? She'd been telling the very same story in the staff room this morning. "She was breaking school rules. We need to be far stricter Mr. Suoh, or these… children," She cast Melinda a disparaging look. Melinda looked her right in the eye, disgusted. "… are going to walk all over us. We need to assert our dominance. Measures need to be taken to-"

"- We are not animals, Ms. Ohayashi." Yuzuru Suoh stirred his tea with every air of nonchalance. "We do not 'assert our dominance' over children. We merely instruct them. Do you understand?"

"Well yes, of course." She looked confused. "But even so-"

"And are you aware that by striking Miss Redmond you are, in fact, breaking the law?" Mr. Suoh asked conversationally. Adding two sugars to his tea. Then thinking better of it, and adding two more. He sipped it and looked at her piercingly. "Isn't that interesting?"

Ohayashi swallowed. "Yes. Very interesting." She parroted. Suddenly very scared.

"Akira- may I call you Akira? Well I'm going to anyway." Melinda smiled sweetly, displaying her bruised cheek proudly. "I have to admit that while entertaining, I cannot say I appreciated our little altercation in its entirety." She said sincerely. "But you know what, I know someone who will. In fact, I invited him here with me today."

She stood and walked to a chair in the corner she hadn't seen previously where a man sat in a sharply pressed suit. Eyes calculating and, she swallowed, dangerous.

"I'm sure you'll both get along so wonderfully." She clapped her hands together.

"What?" Akira Ohayashi suddenly felt out of her depth. And scared. The devil- child was watching her with a strange look in her eye. Like a hawk which had a mouse firmly in its sights.

"Not what, 'who'." Melinda pouted. "Grammar is very important. Wouldn't you agree Mr. White?"

The man nodded, amused but quiet, sipping his tea. "Mr. White, meet Ms. Ohayashi. My Business teacher. Ms. Ohayashi," Her voice and facial expression suddenly changed. "Meet my lawyer."

* * *

Kyoya was waiting for me after that incident, and I was grateful. He was at my locker, with his books ready for his next class. I sighed with relief. Safe.

"Well?"

"Ding, dong, the witch is dead." I sang tunelessly, sagging against the locker. "And that took a lot out of me. I'm so exhausted."

"As expected." He shifted his books and procured a can of Red Bull form somewhere about his person. "Try and get through the rest of today," He reassured. "You can probably just stay home tomorrow."

I thanked him and quickly opened my locker as the bell rang. He made his goodbyes and strolled down the hall. Unhurried. I didn't want to be late for life-skills. I'd given Hikaru a dream catcher this time. I'd heard him say he'd been sleeping badly. It was blue with sparkly things woven in the middle. It was made out of Rock candy and the threads were gummy laces. Didn't look like it though. Kiyoyko was truly a confectionary genius.

I'd made something for Kaoru. It was an amulet that I'd helped design. Okay so I hadn't exactly _made_ it, but close enough. It was an oval pendant with his name scripted around a blue jewel on the silver frame surrounding it.

"Go on without me. I'll meet you there." I waved Chiharu on. She was back in school temporarily now. Still sick she said. Poor thing.

Anyway. Kaoru's thing. It was more expensive than Hikaru's, true, but considering it was a thank you gift and a Valentines thing _and_ Hikaru was getting more than he was in the long run, I figured I could be forgiven.

What I saw made me stop. Two days ago dad had sent all the replacement books I needed with a strict warning to keep a better eye on my things. So I'd bought a heavy duty padlock for my locker.

Which was lying broken on the floor.

I slammed the door and didn't even bother to take an inventory, sure what I would find. I angrily wiped away a few escaping tears and went to class. For fuck's sake, would it ever end?

* * *

"So she doesn't suspect a thing?" He was amused. Playing with a pen as he sat on the edge of his desk, dismissing a faceless minion.

"No. She thinks it's one of those Hitachiin twins as far as I know."

"Good. Make her believe it. In the meantime, have you befriended her?"

The answer was a while coming. "I have." His contact said finally. Jirou Ootori frowned into the receiver.

"What happened?"

"Nothing she's just… does it have to be her?"

He arched a brow, amusement gone. "Are you having doubts, little one? Because I assure you, there are more than enough candidates who would be more than willing to do your job for you if you feel you can't handle it."

"No, no- I can," Was the hurried response.

"Then do." He said and hung up.

* * *

The silver ring was sitting in my desk when I got to class. It was made of, I licked it tentatively, sugar. I stared at it in surprise, recognising Kiyoko's work but not knowing who could possibly…

I almost smacked myself in the head. Hadn't Kyoya found me shopping with Chiharu that day? Hadn't I known he was resourceful? And the ring was obviously, I blushed, symbolic. I slipped it on. First on my index finger, then changing my mind I slipped it on my ring finger.

A smile played on my face. I didn't even notice Chiharu's nervous tapping. Or the fact that Kaoru didn't give away the amulet. Or the fact that Hikaru was just as happy with his dream catcher as he had been with the roses. In fact I didn't notice anything around me.

I was thinking about Saturday night, and Valentine's Ball.

* * *

"Richard Redmond, this court finds you guilty of the charges against you of wilful inclusion of addictive illegal substances in the meals offered by your restaurants." The Judge sifted through his sheaf of false documents, 'signed' by Redmond and fought his guilt.

Richard stood stalwart at the defence stand. Confused but silent. He didn't protest his innocence or nake a sound it all in.

"By the power vested in me as the judge of this court," The words were dry in his mouth. He was forcing them out. "I hereby sentence you to six years…"

The uproar was enormous. Cameras flashing and voices raised. In the middle of it all, the black suited pale-faced man stood and casually strolled out of the court amidst the ruckus. Glancing back only once at the door to give his nod of approval.

Honourable Judge Ikeda, wiped his brow, bellowed for 'order' and felt a cloud of dread descend upon him and the notes in his pocket instead of being reassuring seemed to burn a hole in his thigh. The honourable Judge, upstanding citizen, role model and figure head, had just sentenced an innocent man.


	10. Chapter 10

_**I finally used my beta- a fact for which we are both grateful ^^ She helped me so much. So thank you Kinthinia!!**_

_**Other than the delay- for which I apologize my OCD bothered me for days- I hope you enjoy this chapter. Peace, love and your own male harem ;)**_

_**I disclaim. **_

_**Please tell me if you like it!**_

_**~Mari**_

* * *

Have you ever seen the world at dawn? Not many people have, mainly to do with the fact that most people find it more beneficial to be asleep at dawn, but I'm not complaining. I don't think I've ever had a full night's sleep. There's something hypnotizing about looking outside your window, it gives you time. Time to think.

You know that weird kind of half asleep state you can find yourself in sometimes? Where you're asleep, but you're _aware_ that you're sleeping, and therefore it is doubtful you actually are sleeping but are just kind of floating in limbo-land until morning? Do you ever get that?

It's okay if you don't. It may be something totally unique to myself. But for the last two nights since Tuesday I hadn't really slept properly. Understandable. But I was running myself ragged.

Even going to the Host Club was a chore, kind of. But there was no possible way I was staying away. Not since _Renge_ came. I apologize if your name is 'Renge' and I've just made it sound like something dirty. But gosh- I'm only human. When another girl publically announces- with no reserve whatsoever- that she has designs on your fiancé's body, you tend to get quite defensive.

And jealous.

And paranoid.

'Platonic' my ass. I sighed, I'd passed all hope of 'platonic' a long time ago. You don't pay so much attention to someone you only have 'platonic' feelings for. And dammit, that near-kiss back at the hospital actually made my blood pressure rise whenever I thought of it. If that wasn't evidence enough of my decidedly non- platonic feelings- what was?

Then there was father. I beg your pardon, but that is quite a personal subject to me. Speaking to a faceless audience on the subject is something I've been trying to, you know, work up to. Not that everything else in here wasn't 'personal'. In fact I'm going to be talking to you about things that are far more 'taboo', I suppose could be the word, but I digress. Father's trial was on air in fifty-two countries. Gaining almost as much coverage as that Michael Jackson trial a few years back. Probably a bit less because, you know, he wasn't exactly the king of pop.

Just of corporate life as we now know it.

Do you understand now? Why the 'scandal' was such a big deal? Let me put it this way, how many companies do you know of who are so diverse they own restaurants and cinemas and holiday resorts and schools and various other manufactured food and clothing products?

Exactly.

But I didn't want to think about it then. I'd been thinking about it since I'd seen the first newspaper headline. And while I didn't consider myself the type of girl who mooned obsessively over the boy she happened to like, but I understood the value of distraction. If what it took to get my life back on track was asserting my 'claim' over my (almost) husband like a freaking Neanderthal- then fuck it. I was willing to do _anything_ at that point.

Chiharu and I spoke about it the night before an decided against going through a massive wardrobe change in case it took away from the general effect of Saturday night. But I was going to get rid of the hat when I went to school in the morning. What could they do that they hadn't done already? And anyway, with Ohayashi and that law suit- not many teachers were likely to want to get on my bad side considering how much I was suing her for. Now please don't be like Haruhi and try to convince me to 'pity' her in any way. I hate the bitch. Case closed.

Yes? We're agreed? Good. We understand each other.

Make-up…? No. It's not me. It would send big red flags up in Kyoya's mind immediately. Not something I wanted really. He was smart. He'd already figured out I was jealous. But how do I at least make him take notice of me as more than his secretary? I'd put myself in that position, yes- but sometimes being seen as a woman is more important than being seen as a valuable 'asset'. Well I'd show him my 'assets'… God. I can't believe I even _thought_ that.

It would make me laugh, the way I was acting. I had laughed when in the past I'd seen girls acting like this. You know, the whole jealous girlfriend 'he's mine _biotch_' kind of thing. I find it the easiest source of school humor. But when it's you- it's different. It seems serious. And I know my situation was drastically different in that for better or worse I was marrying the guy anyway- but you still want to know that you're at least _attractive_ to your significant other. You know?

Am I just babbling? I suppose I might be. I smiled at the huge empty room and moved back to the bed. In less than a year, it wouldn't be so empty. Or lonely. The thought warmed me.

* * *

You know I heard somewhere that they kind of music you listen to is an indicator of the type of person you are. Classical music for intellectuals, Jazz for laid-back people, pop for bubbly people etc.

I think that's complete bull. There was some kind of Host Club 'video shoot' going on when I went up to the music room after school. I understood that the general concept was to cater to various masturbatory fantasies of the various Ouran female clients. I stuck in my i-pod and blared Fifty Cent. Yeah, I like rap. Not what you were expecting, yes? Renge was busily directing and squealing and batting her eyelashes at… at my fiancé dammit.

"Mel?" I blinked up at Haruhi, she was genuinely concerned, I think. Past 'hello', I hadn't said a word really.

"What's up?" I smiled. Forcibly.

"You alright?" She sat down next to me and tilted her head to the side. Like a puppy. She was cute, I understood Tamaki's infatuation. I grinned impishly.

"Perfectly fine. Are _you_ alright?" She squinted in confusion.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

I inclined my head to where Renge was, quite smoothly flirting with our clueless president. Haruhi blanched. I laughed out loud.

"Exactly." I attempted to stifle my chuckles by covering my mouth with my hand. No dice. She simply stuck out her tongue at me.

"She's a nice girl." Haruhi grumbled. "Just-"

"Stop right there." I interrupted. "Don't try and rationalize it. I've tried. Doesn't work. You'll just give yourself a headache."

"I don't like Tamaki that way." She looked at me stubbornly.

I blinked at her. "Sure you don't."

"There's absolutely nothing between us." She tore grass up out of the ground. I stared.

"I never said there was."

"I know he flirts with me- but he flirts with everybody. There's no guarantee that he actually means what he says."

I touched the hand that was murdering the perfectly groomed lawn. "The grass didn't flirt with Tamaki, Haruhi."

She looked at me and shrugged helplessly. Her eyes were downcast and I realized that perhaps we had far more in common than I'd ever thought. Making a snap decision- I loved those- I slipped off my shoes and extended my hand to her. She took it and stood.

"What?"

"Have you told anyone that I know about… your situation?" I asked, a daring idea entering my mind. She shook her head, 'no'. "Good." I said. And grinned. "Come closer for a minute."

Eyebrow arched, she followed the instruction none-the-less. I whispered my hare-brained thought and pulled back, biting my lip. She looked at me and grinned. It was underhanded. Sly. Totally unfair.

Utterly perfect.

Jealousy can make you do strange things. It's been the drive behind wars, broken families, been the incentive behind murders and, just sometimes, some of the greatest love stories in human existence. It can make two girls 'in crush', band together against the rest of the world, and assert their independence over their male counterparts successfully.

Of course the boys would assume Haruhi was a lesbian, but she didn't have a problem with that.

I picked up my shoes in my right hand and passed her my other earphone. It was a sunny day, there was no rush. And if these boys expected to take their shit lying down then really, they were far more idiotic than we gave them credit for.

* * *

Renge was in the middle of a mental fantasy wherein Kyoya was professing his undying love for her when I decided that I couldn't take it anymore. I was pretty much pissed off enough by the time she was detailing their 'future together' to attempt anything. Start slow. Don't charge right in there with the whole damn chicken.

"Haruhi, you look hot. Too much sun?" I asked innocently. Renge stuttered and I got a few looks. Particularly from Tamaki who had actually stopped mid-sentence. To Haruhi's credit she didn't react much. Just looked up slowly.

"Yeah. I think it's this shirt actually." She said, and tugged at the collar. I got up from my place on the ground and stood in an unnecessarily fluid motion. I stepped in front of the camera and peered at her face, finger under her chin.

"You look flushed. I'll go get you something to cool you down."

You know there is a way to make anything sound provocative. Bite your lip and lengthen the vowels a little. Look your target up and down and you get your point across pretty well too. Somewhere in the background Mori choked on his saliva. I fought the urge to grin and stepped out of the frame to let them get on with it.

To the side, where all the camera equipment was set up there were drinks and things. Fruit and sandwiches and pastries. I smiled. Perfect. They couldn't have made it easier if they'd tried. I saluted Renge's foresight. I picked out a can of Sprite and poured it in one of the champagne glasses- because everyone knows that anything in a champagne glass is just sexy- and picked out half a kiwi, some peach slices and segments of orange. Of course in Ouran Kyoya couldn't simply have sprung for the paper plates. I smiled and shook my head, it had to be ornamental china.

Haruhi left the set and loosened her tie looking at me with the biggest 'come get me' stare I've ever seen. I was taken aback for a minute before I remembered what we were doing, and the fact that while her eyes were most definitely 'smoky' they were also laughing so much I was surprised nobody else noticed. I padded towards her in my bare feet and stood in front of her. Just a little too close. She turned and tilted her head at me. Even closer.

I offered her the glass. Haruhi took it and sipped it delicately, not breaking eye contact. I bit my lip. Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Oh God… I suppose the little giggle could be considered flirtatious. If I twirled my hair like this. And held myself like that- just coy enough to be interested without being annoying.

"Haruhi?" Someone's voice broke. So Hikaru had finally noticed. And Kaoru too as it seemed. The basketball they held between them had fallen somewhere off to the side. I almost cringed when I saw their closeness, and then realized we were likely doing the same thing. And besides, wasn't I just recycling what I'd watched them doing over the past few weeks? Where else would I learn how to 'seduce' someone? The twins were experts at the sexual tension thing. Unfortunately for me. But it was a learning experience.

"Yes?" She asked calmly. God, she really was close. I actually felt her breath across my cheek.

"W-what are you doing?" Hikaru asked, blinking to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Kyoya adjusted his glasses and scribbled something down in his notebook. That could mean any number of things. Damn. Too good at hiding his feelings. Bastard, I thought fondly.

"Taking a break." Haruhi said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I fought the urge to laugh. Who knew what a great actress she was? Well… I suppose she had the whole 'don't let anyone figure out your gender' thing going on so she must have some practice.

"Oh." Kaoru squeaked, face flushing a vibrant red. Payback is so, so sweet.

"You're right. It's so hot out here." Haruhi turned back to me. Fiddling with the top button of her shirt and 'failing' to unbutton in dismally. It was suddenly quiet enough to hear the rustle of the fabric in my hand. Somewhere, someone swallowed.

"You need help with that?" I asked huskily. My voice was husky with amusement, but it's not like they knew that.

"Please." Haruhi agreed. So I reached up and slipped the first three buttons out of their holes. On tip-toes so I was a little closer to her face. One and two and look up through your eyelashes and smile. And listen to the sweet, fulfilling sound of many jaws hitting the floor.

Haruhi smiled and brought my free hand to kiss it- a very 'Tamaki' move- and I simply stared at her coolly. Courtesy of Kyoya's repertoire of seduction techniques. You tend to pick up a lot when you're around that much innuendo and charm all day long.

"Haruhi…" I sighed, inclining my chin upwards. Her hands wrapped around my waist and, tugged me closer to her and…

"I think that's quite enough for today." Kyoya said matter-of-factly directing a camera crew who seemingly came out of nowhere. "Melinda, we have to go and get fitted for our costumes."

I looked at him. Blinking rapidly and trying to ignore the fact that for a minute back there I'd seen Kyoya's face instead of Haruhi's. She seemed dazed too. Confused and kind of… horrified. I smiled first, seeing the humor in what we'd just tried. Oh God- were we insane? I giggled, a soft unassuming sound which soon turned into full blown laughter. Tears of mirth were spilling out of Haruhi's eyes.

And everyone around us was utterly confused.

"Later sexy." I winked and sent her into further peals of laughter. I clutched my sides and fell over. Then got up quickly as I realized that it was actually rather important to get myself together for the costume fittings. I took several futile deep breaths.

"I… hehe… I need to g-grab my bag really quickly. I'll be back." I addressed Kyoya and walked away, body trembling a little. My bag was inside the actual school and I trotted back in my bare feet, holding up the large, cumbersome skirt of my school dress. The marble- imported of course- was cool under my feet, it didn't help that the wind was blowing through and making it cool even further. It was white, I'm not sure where exactly from, with veins of blue and brown running through the stone. The doors were always open until around seven each night so the fact it was five o' clock and most normal schools closed at three didn't made any difference whatsoever.

It didn't, except I hadn't left my bag in my locker- but in Kyoya's. Which was fine and all. But I had failed to take into account the fact that whoever trashed my locker on the regular would know where his was too.

Unfortunately they had not taken into account that Kyoya was Kyoya and therefore would have a far superior security system than a simple lock and key. I stared at the charred spot in front of the locker and absently swiped the card he'd given me in front of his 'lock'. I really did not want to know.

I grabbed my bag and went outside. So thankful that Kyoya wasn't my enemy. So thankful.

"Are you ready to go now?" He asked me. I blinked. That was a little… terse.

"Sure." I said. And followed him.

Ah… as far as awkward car rides go, I think that one was the worst. For some reason Kyoya was… angry. Yes he was. He was angry. He was murdering the buttons on his Blackberry and snapping short commands at our driver. Quite frankly I wasn't impressed and I didn't know exactly what to make of it. Generally Kyoya was a congenial person. Polite to a flipping fault. I'd never seen him behave so rudely.

At one point I looked at him ordering some poor minion to perform an utterly menial task over the phone, and thought he was looking at me. I must've been hallucinating because when the light shifted and the glare was lifted from his glasses I realized he was actually looking at the back of the driver's seat.

I looked back out of my own window and balled my hands into loose fists. No, I wasn't disappointed. Just because I couldn't keep my eyes to myself didn't mean everybody else shared the same predicament.

There are times when it's good to hope. To look optimistically towards the future. And there are times when all that'll get you are burned fingers. Better to be realistic about things like this and realize early on that stunts like the one I pulled today aren't going to get me anything but a lot of speculation.

It's very likely that, given time, I may fall in love with the boy sitting next to me. Given the way I'm feeling now I'd wager it's a very strong possibility. And there's nothing wrong with caring about someone. I think. On the other hand there's also a very slim chance that he actually feels the same. In fact so slim, that I can hardly call it a 'chance'. In a different universe, maybe.

And the sooner I realize this the sooner I can stop deluding myself about his intentions. His first, and maybe his only love is his father's company. I smiled outside of the window. He was going to take over the world one day. I could see it. And I suppose I'll be there too. Right by his side. I'd always be by his side. And I suppose that was alright.

That could be enough for me.

* * *

"I said stop it." I was getting a little panicked. The guy looked up from his position on his knees in front of me where he was 'measuring my inseam'. Which apparently meant a lot of grabbing my thighs.

"Darling, I need to do this to get your measurements right."

"I'm not wearing a tuxedo by any means." I said plainly, moving back a little. He seemed to be stumped and I looked to Kyoya who was already grabbing our things.

The tailor was one of those questionably gay guys who wore make-up and all that- not out of any desire to, but because the cliché made it 'okay' for them to touch women. I think he was surprised when I refused his attentions. Honestly, regardless of their sexuality, are you going to let some guy feel your crotch unnecessarily?

And if he was actually gay, wouldn't he be more eager to get in Kyoya's pants?

"Thank you, I believe we'll take our custom elsewhere." Kyoya assertively took my hand, tossed the guy a few yen for his trouble, and we left halfway through my fitting.

We got all the way to the car before I realized two things. We hadn't any costumes and today was Thursday. The thing was on Saturday. And… two red spots blossomed on my cheeks. I hadn't let go of his hand. Or was it the other way around?

No. Stupid though. It was Kyoya. He doesn't do things like 'hold hands'.

"_You'd be surprised, the things I do."_ Isn't that what he'd said that day? But no, I was fairly certain, the only reason he hadn't let go of my hand is because I hadn't. He was too gentlemanly to simply reclaim his hand. I hate when you only ever have one thing on your mind. You project it on everything.

I took my hand back sheepishly. "What'll we do now?"

"Find somewhere else." He said casually as he opened the door for me. My heart thrummed at the gesture, even though it wasn't something particularly 'new'. He always did that. I was just… projecting. Damn. I hope you never have the misfortune to fall for someone who hasn't got a chance of falling back. It sucks, I smiled wryly at the back of the driver's head.

"Melinda?" I looked over as he was in the middle of buckling his belt. "I think I need to make something utterly clear. I'm aware that you and I have perhaps not chosen to get married in the traditional manner but when I make my vows I plan on keeping them." He slipped his glasses off and ran a hand through his hair. Utterly unaware of just how damn sexy he was. I swallowed.

He looked at me in the darkness of the car. It made my breath catch. "So do I." I said. Completely calm and controlled and… of course he heard my voice tremble. His eyes didn't lose any of their intensity.

"However I understand that to make this work for the both of us, it cannot be entirely clinical." He was saying quietly. "I know women Melinda, I've been catering to them for years. You want to feel desired, special. Am I right?" His eyebrow arched.

Oh, he knew he was right. Stupid damn, sexy eyebrow. Very, very sexy eyebrow. I didn't need to reply, but he expected some kind of assent, so I nodded. He wasn't touching me and I felt like I was burning from the inside out. Just his eyes on me. And it was almost too much.

"I don't want you going to other men Melinda. I look after what's mine." He smiled. No smirked. An evil thing that exuded pheromones and made me want to jump him right then and there. And not only because he'd just made it clear that he considered me his. Which should be offensive. But I found it incredibly hard to look past the fact that I was his _anything_. Oh and he knew. That's why he did it. And just when I was beginning to regain coherency the smirk became a little... dangerous. And no, that did not just raise his sex appeal.

"I don't like sharing Melinda." He said to me with the kind of intensity best reserved for the bedroom. I closed my eyes, regulated my breathing, and tried not to pass out. Breathe in, and out.

Oh I was so screwed. So, so screwed.


	11. Chapter 11

_**It's been a long time hasn't it? A couple of you have even come out of lurking to help kick me into gear :) I really should've warned you; I take obscenely long holidays with my family. It's great! :) Anyway, I hope your Easter was good- whatever you celebrate- and here's to consistant updates!**_

_**I promise nothing. I work late.**_

_**But I'll try!**_

_***does the disclaimer thingy***_

_**~Mari**_

* * *

"Don't worry about me, Melinda." Richard smiled at his daughter from the other side of the glass divider which separated them. The plastic phone at his ear smelled and he didn't want to think about the crusty residue on the seat he was currently inhabiting, but those things were easily ignored in favour of looking at his daughter and wondering when she became so much like her mother that... that it almost hurt to look at her.

"I'm not worried about you, Dad." She said quietly. Her voice shook, but her face remained unreadable. They were both acutely aware of the fact that both the guards and the other visitors and inmates had quite a vested interest in the shamed businessman and his daughter. They still had to keep up appearnces. "If anything it's me I'm worried about. I don't know how to run a business. I'm scared I'll mess up. "

"Not if Kyoya has anything to say about it." He said logically. His blue eyes were framed by dark rings and in the last few days he seemed to have aged by...years. Melinda's heart sank further into herself, her teeth gnawing at her inner lip as she tried to process this new image of her father. They still twinkled though, his eyes, like two bright stars. "I hear it's quite likely I'm going to have a new son-in-law very soon."

"Oh really?" The corners of her lips turned up in a parody of a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "And who, pray tell, gave you this information?"

"I have my sources." He gave her a challenging look, easily disguising the fact that his back had stiffened at the approach of an otherwise unassuming man in the bright orange uniform all inmates wore. Melinda noticed and didn't comment. But her eyes took in the man's awkward gait unkempt appearance and ordinary features. The only remarkable thing about him was a rather... unfortunate nose. It was bruised, like the beak-like structure of it had recently been broken. Richard chose not to elaborate on his reaction. "It's true though, correct?"

"Very true." She acquiesced, looking at the perspex screen, not quite allowing herself to look into blue eyes. They'd break through her facade immediately and she didn't particularly like the idea of turning into a blubbering mess in a state prison. "We're planning on getting married sometime in June. We haven't picked an exact date, or even a place, and we're still waiting to tell everyone at the Valentine's Ball tomorrow."

"Wise decision." He mused. "Getting it all out in a public space. There's less chance for rumours to start, and you remain in control of the situation."

"In an extremely extravagant way," Melinda said wryly, looking at the boy in question who was standing at a respectable distance having an argument with somebody on the other end of his phone. Well the other person was arguing. Kyoya wasn't one to _argue_, that implied that someone other than him was right, and doing it over the phone would be beneath him. No, it was more likely he was coolly stripping down their arguments to nothing. Notebook still in hand. Richard wondered if his daughter was aware that every time she glanced at him she seemed to... glow? Was that the right word. He stared, speculatively.

"I eventually persuaded him to forego the fireworks, but it was only a small victory. I think he'd probably fly the Eiffel tower to Japan if he could, and have Barack Obama announce our engagement to the world on top of it, with a megaphone."

Kyoya looked up then, noting that all 'intense' conversation had likely ended considering father and daughter were simply staring through the perspex glass with similar emotionless masks. He recapped his fountain pen and put it in his pocket casually, then tucked his notebook under his arm and hung up the phone without even a cursory goodbye.

He really hated Mondays.

"Now Melinda," Kyoya said, striding casually towards their booth. He adjusted his glasses and noted that Melinda's hands were clenched into fists on her lap. He quashed the irrational urge to take them in his own larger ones and hold them until they unfurled. "Telling stories about me to your father? Really?"

"It's all true." Melinda assured Richard earnestly, trying to keep an air of levity. It was, of course, a show for the people watching and the man at the door trying desperately to look like he belonged there whilst feverishly taking pictures with the flash-less camera hidden up his sleeve. Melinda just felt tired. It was always something. "He has a yacht booked and everything."

Kyoya merely shook his head at her and examined their surroundings with evident distatste. "Mr. Redmond, the security guard I just spoke to assures me that they're following my father's instructions about your living arrangements to the letter. I reserve my judgement, however are you being kept well?"

"As well as one could hope, given the charges I'm facing." He said calmly, thinking about the small gray holding cell they had placed him in. No fellow inmates, no windows. It was driving him quite mad. They hadn't given him the standard headache-inducing uniform though, and he still remained in his expensive suits, he even had his Rolex. He assumed they were giving him special treatment as he hadn't seen any other inmate with personal items. Which made it so much easier to mingle with these people, he thought wryly.

"My lawyers have informed me that they believe they've found evidence to suggest an outside influence. They've also noted that the judge presiding over your case splurged on a trip to Paris and bought a new house shortly after your conviction. Coming from a man who could barely pay his rent two weeks ago, I've decided that this may need further investigation."

Kyoya said all this matter-of-factly, like they were talking about something as triite and trivial as the weather. Melinda envied his cool. As far as she could see the boy was never ruffled. Even now discussing the future of one of the richest, most influential men on the planet. It suddenly occured to her that she could live her whole life and never achieve that level of untouchable disinterest.

She bit her lip and told herself fo rthe fourth time that day that she could make it until three, when they'd leave and she could just let herself cry or scream in the sacred privacy of the Ootori mansion.

"He's been working around the clock." Melinda said unnecessarily. She remembered the argument he'd had with his father, and then with her later about the entire issue. He wanted to be involved in this and make it clear from the start that the Redmonds had the support of himself as well as his father so he'd be associated with them from the start. That apparently meant paying for a private detective out of his own pocket and using his father's team of proffessional lawyers to find loopholes- everything. He was like a shark that had scented blood in the water. She got the distinct feeling that Mr. Ootori approved. Melinda wasn't quite sure whether to hit him for being stupid or fall into his arms in a grateful mess. A little of both probably. "We'll get you out of here in time for the wedding."

Richard looked at the two children in front of him and smiled. Melinda had never quite grasped the importance of body language, and Kyoya, it seemed, was quite aware of the message he was sending- and intended for it to come across the way it looked. He stood behind Melinda's chair, a solid presence. It brought to mind a stag standing protectively over his doe. He was protective of Melinda. Interesting. Inwardly he breathed, this could work. He could just about picture them as a couple. It wasn't as difficult to see as he would have originally thought.

He swallowed hard. They reminded him of himself and Laureli.

_"We were never that awkward, were we?"_ He could almost hear his wife's voice. She'd asked that question so many times. When his older sister got married to that annoying drip from Edinburgh. When Melinda had tried dating for the first time.

When they flipped through their wedding album just hours before she died.

_"Not as far as I know_," he remembered replying. "_We were a great deal more opposed to the whole thing. I recall the first time we met; you broke a vase over my head."  
_  
_"You deserved it. You were a jackass."  
_  
_"Yes, I believe that was your explanation back then as well."  
_  
"Father, we have to go," Melinda was saying reluctantly, trembling visibly now. Kyoya placed a hand on her shoulder. "School isn't out for another five hours and we only got permission to be here for a little while. Mr. Suoh sends his regards."

She was playing with her fingers, nervous and scared and utterly unable to say anything of consequence. Her eyes were fluttering in that fragile way they did when she wanted to cry but wouldn't let herself. Sometimes he berated himself for his strict tutelege. 'You must not show anything on your face,' he'd told her when she was just seven. 'Don't let anyone see what you feel. Be polite, not personal.'

Good advice goven in the right spirit, at the worng time.

She had been- and was still- a child. Something heavy settled on Richard's heart as he watched his daughter. He was a terrible father. He was. Look at what he was making her go through... for what? A company that perhaps wouldn't even last the century? And several billion dollars, yes.

He'd given her that.

And stolen her childhood in the process.

"As do I." Richard smiled forcedly. "Tell the idiot to visit me sometime."

"I will." Melinda said uncertainly. "You know-"

"...Melinda." Kyoya interrupted. "I'm sure you have a lot more to talk to your father about, but we don't have time. I've scheduled another fitting for this afternoon and if we don't leave now we won't make it in time."

Melinda swallowed and nodded. Then, on an impulse put down the phone, kissed the tips of her fingers and blew in a moment of uncaring reckless emotion that surprised both men. Richard blinked; something hard got caught in his throat. He blinked, and for a moment could pretend he could see her as a little girl with wild curly hair, adamant she wouldn't go to sleep until her father kissed her goodnight _properly_.

"I love you Dad," she said in a small voice. Then stood and allowed Kyoya to lead her out of the dull gray visiting room under the watchful eye of the security guard on duty. Richard rubbed his face and attributed the sting in his eyes to dust in the air.

The walk to the shiny black Rolls Royce was tense with emotion, as Melinda did her best to hold in the tears and keep herself together. She was successful right until she sat down next to Kyoya in the silence of the car. They drove for a full ten minutes before she finally lost her tenuous control of her emotions and her tears could not be held any longer.

She didn't cry prettily. It wasn't like a movie, where she allowed a few silent tears to escape and got through the whole ordeal without messing up what little make-up she wore. Long bitter sobs were wrenched from her and she didn't hold them back. Not even when her nose started running and she saw her tears mingle with the black of her mascara to stain her uniform.

Kyoya sat still for another minute, breathing evenly at the display of helplessness before him. Then decided he really didn't give a damn and pryed her hands from their tight grip around herslef and, determinedly not thinking about it, gathered her to himself. He didn't say anything- what could he say? Everybody else would tell her not to cry later, but there was nobody here to see.

His eyelashes fluttered. She was so small, his arms encircled her waist completely and, lost in the feeling for a moment, he failed to see why he hadn't done this earlier. He faltered and stared out of the window over the top of Melinda's curly, white, head, holding her closer tentatively as larger sobs wracked her body, wringing painful sounds from her throat.

Not sexual, not in any way romantic. And yet... there was something incredibly important about this moment hwich he couldn't quite pinpoint. Kyoya generally was an eloquent person. He had no trouble bending words to his whims and using them as he pleased. But right at that moment... he couldn't find anything to say.

Mr. Fujimoto politely averted his eyes from the two teenagers in his backseat and tactfully raised the dividing screen, allowing themselves a rare moment to themselves.

* * *

"Today's the day everyone." The teacher was saying with a bright smile and a spring in her step. Which had nothing to do with the fact that it was Valentine's Day, and everything to do with the six cups of coffee she'd inhaled this morning- just so she would have the strength to face the fairytale world of Ouran.

Surprisingly though, people seemed excited about this 'Cupid' thing. She was glad she'd decided to do it in the end. The idea of giving someone small gifts had stemmed from her inherent love of romance novels. She thought the 'secret admirer' thing was cute as hell. She'd nearly given up on this class altogether, but seriously, with the standard of the gifts given she had to admit even she was excited to see who got which Cupid.

More specifically, who was Hikaru's Cupid? Usually she wasn't interested in her student's love life, but that was, quite simply, adorable. Whoever his Cupid was- they'd obviously taken time to actually see what he liked. And what he didn't like. Seriously; it must be nice to be rich and have no financial limit to what you can buy. His gifts ranged from exquisitely shaped chocolates to exotic wood carvings and old charms. All of them unique. All of them beautiful.

And she wasn't the only one. Hikaru and Kaoru had come into her class early for the first time ever and were sitting in their usual seats, by the windows, as far back as they possibly could. They'd made it quite clear from the start that they had no interest in her class whatsoever. On anybody else, the pose would have been lazy. Even casual. Slouching in their seats with their top buttons open and. Hikaru- or was it Kaoru?- was leaning on his elbow and cradling his head. The other one was reclining as far back in his seat as possible, legs spread obscenely wide. But usually the Hitachiin twins took 'casual' to new extremes which... they just didn't seem to meet today. That paired with the fact Kaoru- or was it Hikaru?- was busily strangling the hem of his shirt solidified the fact that they were nervous.

At least Hikaru- or Kaoru, whatever- was nervous. He was fiddling with anything within reach. Chewing on a pencil- and earning a disgusted look from Haruhi- completely disregarding his Nintendo (DSI, of course), shifting like the whole world would come to an end if he just sat still for a few minutes.

"So what I want you to do," she continued, smiling, "is stand up when I call the name of the person you were Cupid to. I'm going to do this in alphabetical order."

Honestly, some of the Cupids were so weak compared to Hikaru's. She watched Haruhi shrug and smile at the small blonde girl who had been her Cupid. But Akira was usually sick, so it didn't really matter that she hadn't exactly been overzealous in her affections. The new girl, Chiharu, was sitting alone in her seat next to Melinda's and studiously studying the patterns on her wooden desk.

"Melinda Redmond?" She asked. As far as she could tell the girl hadn't gotten much by the way of gifts. Which is why she was surprised when Chiharu raised a shy hand then, just as quickly, put it back down.

Odd. Hadn't she heard the girl telling Redmond that she was Fujioka's Cupid? Oh well, maybe she'd been trying to prevent Melinda from guessing. Something didn't quite compute but she shook it off. She was entirely too interested in her student's lives.

But who could blame her? Her cable was broken and they had more drama than an omnibus of the OC.

"Hikaru Hitachiin."

She finally called. And the room seemed to collectively hold its breath. Hikaru sat up a little straighter and cast his eyes around the room. Nobody stood. The teacher frowned and checked her attendance list. Yes, everyone was here today. Everyone except...

"Miss?" Chiharu raised a timid hand, looking at the teacher with her twisted eyes. What a shy child. She didn't talk much in class except when Melinda was there.

"Yes?" She smiled encouragingly.

"If it's alright... I know who senpai's Cupid is."

"Then say it!" Hikaru- yes, he was Hikaru, Kaoru wasn't as volatile, she sighed- exclaimed. Then seemed to realize that everyone was staring. "Please." He mumbled, sinking a little in his seat.

Chiharu looked around a little and licked her lips. Carefully not meeting anyone's eyes. "Melinda-san told me to tell you she's sorry she can't be here today, but that she hopes you enjoy her gift." And producing a parcel wrapped beautifully in pink and white paper she set it carefully on a shell-shocked Hikaru's desk, a small smile decorating her lips. The red headed boy stared at the gift. Mouth forming an 'o' of utter shock, Chiharu pursed her lips. She wouldn't say what she wanted to.

She wouldn't.

No.

"For you, Hikaru." She said sweetly, and enjoyed the sight of his jaw hitting the floor. Sometimes, life was good. Though she still believed if Melinda was there the moment would have been sweeter.

* * *

Shopping is sometimes therapeutic and I fully believ in the stress-relieving properties of a good spending spree. That is, when you aren't scrambling desperately for a dress for your engagement announcement in a day and a half with only a few hours to achieve perfection.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. _Perfection_. It wasn't fair on so many levels- I'd never procrastinated on anything in my life -ever- until just then. Understandably, I was close to panicking and this wa the fifth shop I'd dragged an unruffled Kyoya into. He hadn't let me go back to school, saying something about being unable to keep an eye on me adequately in class. I did not for one moment believe that was the whole truth, but I was grateful nonetheless. He'd taken me to the shopping centre straight away and we'd wasted time eating icecream and trying to navigate the large building. He had less knowledge of 'commoner's markets' than I did of Japanese malls. What a pair we made, eh?

On unspoken agreement, we were mutually ignoring the fact that I'd cried on him not half an hour earlier- and he had the tear stains to prove it. But he didn't seem to care, and I wasn't about to draw attention to it.

The dress I picked out eventually wasn't anything special on the rack. Kyoya didn't say anything, though I could see his 'Eyebrow of Disapproval' make an appearance, He was understandably sceptical. The dress really wasn't anything special. It was a light pink and pretty in an understated way. But nothing like the extravagance that every other woman at the Ball would be fitted in.

"It's perfect." I smiled, holding the dress up by its hanger and looking at the tailor. "We'll take it."

The pierced, dreadlocked woman glanced at Kyoya, unsure. Her measuring tape was held loosely between her hands. Her eyes wide behind the thick, unflattering make-up she wore. She would have been pretty without the orange fake tan.

"Are you sure? One of my interns made that, I can't give it the same guarantee-"

"...It's okay." I said quickly. "I'll take it anyway. Kyoya can you pay for this? I need to make a few calls."

I left without waiting to hear an answer. I didn't deliberately mean to be rude, I was just excited because honestly- I'd found it. That dress? Was the answer to our prayers. Kyoya couldn't see it yet and rightly so. He was a boy. They didn't need that kind of vision- but the things I could do with it! I just needed to call in a favour or two...

I ended up standing outside the store, pretending I couldn't see a lone paparazzo stalking me and hiding behind the pretzel stand. I couldn't tell if it was the same one from this morning. And really- did it matter? One was exactly like another, they were all the same.

None of them particularly cared that the life they were ruining belonged to a person. I turned around and decided not to pay him any mind.

"Hi, Danyl? Um... I kind of need your help.... No, I'm not in some kind of trouble....uh-huh... No, I haven't decided to take you up on your proposition either, I just- would you listen?!" I huffed.

I swept aside the annoying lock of hair that kept sneaking out of my hat. Her number had been right there on my 'contact' list. Staring at me like her blue eyes had at the ball before I left England. A thousand years ago. I could only hope she hadn't gotten lazy, or bored with sewing. She was my last port of call.

"Look, do you still like designing clothes?... Well yes, that's what I was trying to say. I need your help.... You can? That's great!" I smiled tightly, fists clenching by my side when two more cameras appeared out of nowhere. I dismissed my first, almost uncontrollable instinct to run to Kyoya. But only because he'd walked out to me first. He offered me the bag, holding it out with the tips of his fingers, his eyes flashed. I didn't dismiss it as the flash of his glasses, for the first time. Recognizing the flicker as a crack in his mask- he was worried. About me?

I took the bright pink bag and stepped closer to him, and unconscious smile curling my lips. He just shifted his weight, so he was leaning towards me. A happy warmth spread throughout my whole body.

"See you soon." I said, hung up, and fell into step with Kyoya as we explored the rest of the vast unknown that was a 'Japanese mall.'

* * *

It was beautiful.

"Now don't spill anything on it." Danyl was sitting on my bed, looking at the new creation hanging innocently on its hanger. It had taken literally five hours for her to jump in her private jet and make her way over here. She'd been in India doing some kind of charity work. Hence, we were up and working at an utterly ridiculous hour and Kyoya had retired about three hours earlier in utter confusion, tactfully leaving us to our own designs.

"Of course not." I said tiredly. I was sitting cross-legged on the floor. "It took three hours to design and its around half past two now. How could I possibly justify doing anything to this dress now?"

"Just making sure." She said, collapsing backwards on my bed. "Now leave. I don't do sharing."

"There's a perfectly good couch in the living room." I said, astonished. She was hijacking my room? My own room?

"So you take it." She said flippantly, moving around my bed and fluffing things as she pleased. I simply stared. "Consider this my payment. I have to leave in six hours anyway so it's not like you'll never get it back. Leave, go, scram, high-tail it, get out of my room." She threw my pillow at me. She. Threw my pillow. At me. I shook my head and stood.

"You don't get to do that. This is my room and-" She turned out the lights. The switch was by my bedside. I've never regretted anything more. Why did she get to control when _my_ room was in darkness? It was my room- therefore_ I_ dictated when it was dark or not... I've never been so thoroughly dismissed in my life.

"Goodnight." She said cheerfully. And two minutes later the room was filled with the rather loud sound of her snores.

I grabbed my duvet off the bed in a fit of spite and sulked my way to the living room. It took longer than it should've to arrange myself. It had been a long day, and I was tired. And... truth be told I hadn't been able to sleep since my father was incarcerated. Understandably.

But you know... now I have a dress, and a fiancé, and a future which I could actually see into past a few days. I settled on the couch and closed my eyes, wrapping the cream duvet around my shoulders. Tomorrow the whole world would know I was getting married. Tomorrow my whole life would change and everything... would be... perfec...

Smash.

My eyes shot open and I blinked sleepily in the direction of the front door. The wide room swam in front of my eyes and I cowered under the duvet, momentarily cowed by my old phobia. The house was too quiet for comfort at such a late hour. And I was by myself. I was frequently by myself, but it was a stark contrast to the last few hours in which I had blithely chatted to Danyl about the dress.

I was not accustomed to hearing strange noises in the middle of the night. Usually that either meant my dad was sleep walking and had managed to trip over one of the long glass vases in the hall, or we were being broken into.

Considering the Ootoris had a multi-billion dollar security system and my father was a few hundred miles away in a high security state prison, neither of those options was very likely. But I heard a crash. So shouldn't there be a SWAT team descending from the roof or something? My mind jumped from one idea to the next, sporadically, until finally I couldn't take it any more. I forced myself off the sofa, heart pounding hard in the silence of the dark room. I couldn't convince myself to open my eyes though, feeling my way to the source of the noise, through the dark.

I padded on the soft carpet, quietly to the... kitchen? I felt around on the wall and flicked the light on. Yes the kitchen. I felt a breeze coming through the door which had not been there around dinner time.

* * *

It took a while to process. The note had been wrapped around a diamond of all things. Doesn't that make you laugh?

A diamond. I was living in a world where diamonds could be substituted for your average, everyday rock. Unlike normal kidnappers, they didn't need to use mere rocks to get their point across. No. I got a diamond, with a very simple message attached to it.

I trembled and, wrapping my arms around myself, I sank to the floor clutching the diamond's sharp edges until it cut my palm. I stared in front of me, not seeing anything, all my earlier excitement disappeared in a puff of smoke. The room was spinning and somehow I couldn't see straight. But what did I need to see. The message was simple.

Impossible to misunderstand.

But I wished I had one hell of a reading impediment anyway.

'We have your bug-eyed friend. You will call off your engagement to the Ootori boy and meet us at the school. Or the girl dies.'

I stared stupidly at the glittering rock, watching its hard edges catch the light and reflect it in a myriad of colours. Pink, blue and red. Somehow it lost most of its beauty in the circumstances. The sheer magnificence of the rock was obscene. I closed my eyes against it. I felt like I'd swallowed the thing and it was cutting me from the inside, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"Melinda?"

Soft footsteps brought me out of my reverie and I looked up in a trance. Kyoya stood in his pyjama bottoms and a vest without his glasses, hair flopping all over the place. My heart clenched painfully and I realized that somehow without my noticing the inevitable had occurred. Given the choice, I would gladly spend my life with him.

Without thinking I launched myself at him and begged my heart to stop beating so loud.

"Kyoya." I whispered his name and closed my eyes tight. Letting the rock fall to the floor uncaringly and hating myself for considering staying. Even for a moment. Obviously confused his hands tentatively wrapped around my waist.

"What happened?" He asked astutely.

I opened my mouth, but for a long time, no words would come.


	12. Chapter 12

**Dear Beta,**

**I'm so so sorry I put this up without waiting for your feedback. I felt bad for not updating and since I'm leaving soon this is my last update for two weeks. I'm so sorry!!**

**Anyway, I disclaim.**

**Love it, hate it, whatever. Please review. If you are so inclined :)**

**Oooh drama!**

**~Mari**

* * *

I sat at the kitchen table for a long time playing with my phone. It was a small slidy-compact thing that I'd gotten for Christmas from Dad. The lightbulb above my head was dying, flickering on and off. It would be replaced in the morning, like everything else was replaced. Nothing was moving. The entire house was quiet enough to hear your thoughts, which wasn't welcome considering the dramatic turn my thoughts had taken. Kyoya was doing things around in the kitchen. I never thought I'd use those words consecutively, but I suppose it made sense. He'd lived alone for a long time, regardless of the fact he shared this house with his father and sister. As far as I was concerned, the house was his. I never saw anyone else, and his sister seldom came now that she had a boyriend.

Kyoya disliked him because he was too spontaneous. I liked him for that very reason.

I couldn't help noticing, even in my disengaged state, that he was beautiful in the morning. Completely un-groomed with his hair all over the place and his glasses forgotten somewhere in the depths of his room. It was endearing, I thought. It was too easy to think of him as the ever- ready officious and intelligent figure he portrayed. Not that he wasn't that too, he just seemed more human this way. Although with that said, dissecting Kyoya's humanity should have been the last thing on my mind. It wasn't that I wasn't worried- at that point I'd already given myself numerous ulcers if the pain in my stomach was anything to go by, and was on the verge of giving myself an aneurism. Or four.

It was around three in the a.m. and any chance of falling asleep had passed along with any chance of the ball being anything but a royal disaster. I was beginninng to see that perhaps the dress had been the least of my worries. Considering everything that had been happenning lately it should have been quite obvious that someone wasn't going to be happy with our announcement. Kyoya wasn't as worried as he should've been.

"I'll take care of it," He'd said.

As if that was all there was to say about it. And to him... it probably was. He'd only need to say the word. My mouth pursed and I stared straight ahead. The thought made me angry. Oh yes, I recognised the feeling now. I was angry as hell and wondering why the hell he would be the one handling affairs which directly concerned me. Call me crazy, but standing on the sidelines while someone else played God in my life- even with the best of intentions- wasn't my idea of 'fun'. Not that it was fair to direct anger at Kyoya. He was only doing what was best for me.. for us? Whatever, the point is, he was doing all this so that there wouldn't be another- bigger- screw up on the gigantic disaster zone that my life was becoming.

Even knowing that, I didn't feel better in the slightest. I didn't know what to feel. Have you ever been there? Like when someone dies, and you can't cry then and there because you're shocked and angry and numb and confused and the crying doesn't come until later? Or when, say, a charming handsome man who you've known almost your whole life decides to trade you in for a newer, curvier, blonder model? And you just want to, say, I don't know... cut off his left testicle. Or something. And the crying still doesn't come until later. (No. I do not have any abandonment issues. What would make you think that?)

Yeah well, that's how I felt. I should have been scared and upset and near-hysterical and inconsolable. But I was irate and utterly furious, and somewhat detached towards the whole damn thing. I wanted to fucking murder whoever thought it was okay to just waltz into my life just as things were going somewhat okay and cock up the one shred of normalcy I'd managed to maintain. My mother floated in and out of my peripherals, flickering like the dying light bulb. It made me dizzy, I didn't look directly at her. Even when she started calling my name.

Thing is, I couldn't let him 'take care of it'. How stupid it would be to rush into this situation with guns blazing, the entire army behind him, making accusations left right and centre? Perhaps it was wrong of me to be so skeptical. He was trying to help, I knew that, but... I didn't get why this had to be only about him. Call me crazy, but when you were in a relationship, as far as I knew, decisions were shared. There wasn't one person who constantly decided everything. I stared hard at the table, willing it to burn under my hands and save me the trouble of doing something violent to it. It refused to comply.

I've said it before, I'll say it again. I'm not in the habit of lying to myself. Not all my anger was linked directly to the current situation. I'm good at not lying to myself, but once I have the truth I rarely do anything with it. Take Kyoya and I for example. God, I could almost cry. Because really there was no 'Kyoya and me'. Except when we were in public, and even that had its rules and limitations. You know, sometimes... I felt like he and I were just kids pretending to be adults and playing at 'marriage'. For all that he was supposed to be the more mature of the both of us, he'd left me by myself when right now, I needed him to be with me more than I needed something to eat. What kind of relationship was this exactly? One where I frequently broke down on him, but otherwise was held at arms length?

Of course, that could be me over-analyzing. It just hurt that I seemed to be the only one who felt anything real. I could accept it. I wanted him to be happy. But he couldn't be, could he? Not when he didn't love me anyway? Since when has anybody led a happy, healthy, fulfilled life when forced with someone else out of requirement? Andd I didn't want that. Out of anything he could do to me, turning around one morning and saying he regretted marrying me would probably hurt the worst. It worked with my parents, but you see my parents were the exception in a a cut-throat society with no room for something as precious as love. Everyone said they wanted to find it, but in the world I lived in, if you showed that kind of weakness, you'd be dead. I wish I was exaggerating. The double standard killed me.

But somewhere in the back of my mind I'd hoped that... that maybe I oculd have what my parents had. And be in love, and have the life that they led. Perhaps not with all the moving around but... but just to find somebody who I could honestly say I loved. And now that I supposed I had, could I take that away from Kyoya?

I looked into the kitchen from my place in the dining room. His back was to me, shoulders wide and strong at the sink, washing out a mug for hot chocolate.

I didn't like tea. Neither did he.

Honestly, I think he only drank it because for some reason he thought he was 'supposed to'. I stood up and pushed the chair I had sat on into the table more firmly, wishing my pyjamas had a pocket I could slip my phone into. My eyes closed, I took a deep breath and controlled my flyaway emotinos as best I could, when I opened my eyes again I was fairl functional. I padded, barefoot into the kitchen and leaned against the island in the middle of the room. The black marble was cold against my fingers and I traced the green-blue veins within the stone.

"Hey." I said.

He turned and looked at me, dragging his eyes from his soapy hands in a sweeping motion that had my mind short-circuiting for a minute.

"Hi." He said. Was it wrong of me to feel thrilled by his voice? Given the circumstances? I couldn't help it, honestly. It's like my common sense, takes my logic and kidnaps my self-control and they all go on vacation wherever he's concerned.

Can you blame me though. His eyes are amazing. Dark and deep and... God Melinda, breathe dammit. You don't want to faint. Even if that would mean he'd have to look after you again and hold you to do...

... No. You don't. Really.

"I guess this kinda ruins our plans for the day." I said, coming to stand next to him. He cocked an eyebrow and let out a long breath. Entirely frustrated with the whole situation. He turned on the tap and rinsed the two mugs, drying them quickly and scooping the chocolate into each mug.

"You might say that." He crossed the kitchen and took some milk out of the fridge, poured it into a tall flask big enough to fill two seperate cups, put it in the microwave and turned it on. The toaster popped and I almost smiled when I saw the pop-tarts. The smell of chocolate and sugar wafted throughout the kitchen, comforting me when I felt like I could fly apart at any moment and disintegrate under the weight of my emotion.

"So what are we going to do about it?" I asked, striving for levity, keeping my tone light. Kyoya brushed his hair out of his eyes. It was ungelled, and falling everywhere. Unthinkingly my hand reached up to do it for him, but I caught it at the last moment an berated myself, turning it into a surreptitious scratch of my nose.

He blinked at me. "Nothing. 'We' are doing nothing. I said I'll take care of it."

I stilled, and looked at him sharply, apprehension beginning to seep into my body. Oh yes, that's why getting strung out around him and losing all logical thought wasn't a good idea. Because then he'd spring that oon me. "What, exactly, does that mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like." Kyoya said, handing me a mug, filled with hot chocolate. I took it, ignoring the burning of my palms when I realized it was still hot. I stared at him, annoyed that my mind insisted on noting that he had three freckles on his left cheek. Right beside his mouth. "I can't risk you getting hurt."

"Wouldn't that be my choice?" I asked coldly. "You know, being _my _life, and _my_ best friend?"

"Considering you're still only sixteen? No. I'm supposed to take care of you and that's exactly what I will do. Sending you into the arms of a potential murderer is not something I'm willing to do Melinda."

"But it's something _I'm_ willing to do Kyoya." His face was carefully blank. I cursed the day he'd learned to do that. I hated it. I liked seeing expression on his face. I knew better than anyone how passionate he could be.

The boy had emotional walls a hundred feet high and ten feet thick embedded with shards of broken glass and topped with barbed wire.

"Kyoya, if Chiharu is in trouble then I can't sit here and do nothing. I'm not suggesting I walk right into a trap- but leaving me out of the loop completely... is wrong, and you know it." I tried for logic. It was usually the best way to get through to him.

"Wrong?" He asked, his voice suddenly became hard. "In case you've already forgotten, that was a ransom note Melinda. And you're the ransom. What if something happens to you and any plan I might put in place is ruined because they have you."

"I'd at least have the knowledge to take care of myself. What if something happens and I'm blindsided because I don't know what the hell you're doing."

He put the pop tarts on a plain porcelain plate between us and broke the corner off one of them. His eyes and mouth were tight with suppressed emotion.

"That would be unlucky." He said. "But as long as you're my fiancé your wellbeing is my responsibility."

That stung. More than it should have.

"Your responsibility?" I asked, forgetting to lower my voice for Danyl's sake in the room directly above us. "I'm a person, not a fucking pet! Kyoya, I possess a brain and the ability to use it. Please, don't treat me like a child."

"Because you're not behaving like one at all." He looked at me pointedly in a way that made me want to smack the look off his face. I quivered at the unfairness of it all.

"Do you really consider me incapable of making important decisions?" I clenched and unclenched my fists. Striving for control which I couldn't quite achieve.

"Not that you're incapable, but you're too wound up as it is. You're not thinking straight and I'd rather not deal with hysterics," He said bluntly. "And don't even try and tell me you're not hysterical. In the last two days you've been utterly inconsolable at least three times."

My mouth opened and closed, a sting beginning at the back of my eyelids as each word pierced me like a poison spear. He's just afraid for you, I tried to rationalize. It didn't work. "I apologize." I said thickly. "I hadn't realized I was such a burden. I'll endeavour to control myself in future."

His expression flickered once. But I probably imagined it. After all, Kyoya-the-statue couldn't possibly view me as anything but a hindrance and therefore nothing I could say could hurt the cold hearted bastard.

"See that you do." Was all he said. Before stiffly turning back to the cupboards. Opening and closing them in a seemingly random pattern. I watched his muscles bunch under the thin t-shirt he wore and catalogued the glow of his skin with little more than a slight twinge. Reminding myself of everything that I had, in theory, but would never really possess.

"Why do you insist on babysitting me Kyoya?" I asked, not bothering to hide the hurt in my voice. "If you honestly see me as your fiancé then why don't you treat me like that, instead of like your sister or something?"

"This is entirely a business association Melinda." He said through gritted teeth. "You've known that from the beginning. I doubt very much, if given the choice, we'd choose each other to spend the rest of our natural lives with."

Oh. Okay, that hurt.

"I seem to remember you saying that you wanted me to feel special. That you didn't want to make this a clinical relationship."

He didn't say anything. The whistle of the kettle filled the terse silence.

"God Kyoya!" I exclaimed finally, my head pounded uncomfortably. I was aware I didn't exactly make a pretty picture, with my hair all over the place, my eyes red from crying and my old pyjamas askew. In the back of my mind I realized this whole argument was only happening because we were both stressed, and emotional and had a tenuous grasp of our emotions at best. Although perhaps that was just me.

"Control yourself ,Melinda, you'll wake up the whole neighbourhood."

For goodness' sake. "You live in the middle-of-fucking-nowhere Kyoya." I said evenly. "It takes half an hour to get anywhere and the next neighbour you have is a significant drive away. Don't even start that shit with me."

"You have such charming language." He looked at me piercingly. The eyes I'd admired just minutes ago made me want to shrivel up into a ball and curl in on myself. I bit my lip and forced my fist to unclench. Violence wouldn't help with anything.

No matter how much better it would make me feel.

"Don't even start." I said, finally feeling the anger seep into something colder. Something more helpless and... dangerous then anger. The hazy image of my mother sitting at the counter beside us grew more solid the colder I felt.

_Melinda- snap out of it right now. Do you hear me? Right now, before I do something drastic... God, this has gone on far too long... Melinda!_

I looked at Kyoya when I realized his lips were moving too. I could feel the blood rushing through my ears. I concentrated on letting Mother fade away into nothingness, simply because dealing with them both at the same time would make my head burst or something. I raised a hand to my temple and massaged it.

"You realize I survived quite well by myself up until now. I don't need coddling."

"You're a baby." He said, unrelenting. The air whooshed out of my lungs.

"Excuse me?" I asked incredulously. "You have absolutely no right to say that to me. You were sixteen a few months ago- what makes you an adult all of a sudden?"

"I'm a boy. I can look after myself." He said, muscles jumping in his jaw. Now where had I heard that same argument before?

No wonder Haruhi hated being the only girl.

"Meaning? I don't quite see how gender plays any part in this argument at all Kyoya. The only thing I want is for you to discuss with me what we're going to do about a threat that has been made both to my friends and myself. As in that thing adults do when a situation arises that concerns two people in equal measure."

"I don't see any adults here." He said quietly, coolly. "I only see a spoilt little girl arguing for the sake of arguing."

Another piece of my self-confidence scraped off and was lost somewhere in outer-space. I deflated. And teetered on my feet, balance stolen with his words. I suppose I really didn't want to know how he thought of me. I would've asked if he meant _anything_ he said to me in the car that day.

But that question seemed redundant now.

"So it falls upon you now to bear the burden?" I asked, feeling as alone as I ever felt in England. In that house.

"Someone has to look after you, since you insist on placing yourself in danger you- " He cut himself off in frustration. I narrowed my eyes against the tears which insisted on welling. And put the mug down, untouched.

"No, finish your sentence Kyoya." I challenged. "What were you going to say to me? I'd love to know _exactly_ how you think of me, because God knows, it's hard enough trying to figure you out." I said in a breathless rush.

"And I suppose you've tried?" He asked coolly.

I stared in disbelief and my mouth opened and closed. At a complete loss for words. "Who are you?" I asked, pleading with him now. "Does _anyone_ know? Honestly, tell me. Because sometimes I think I know and then you turn into your father, and I don't anymore."

"So perhaps stop analyzing and just live with it." He snapped. "No one person can be one thing all the time. Or don't you, of all people, understand?"

I laughed in amazement. Talk about the pot calling the kettle...

You know what? I didn't need this. If after all this he still didn't trust me... then... then what could I do?

"You need to ask?" I bit my lip and just couldn't meet his eyes anymore. "This is ridiculous." I finally said, I picked up the mug in my red, stinging hands, snagged a pop tart and went back to sit on the dining room table.

I sat in the middle of the large table, as alone as I could possibly make myself, and told myself to get used to the feeling. I took a bite out of my pop tart and sat chewing it for a full minute before I decided there was no point even trying to eat it if I couldn't taste it. I sighed and watched him walk right past me without saying a word and go to the living room. A few minutes of thick silence later in which nothing was heard but the steady tick of the clock.

"...You assured me my security system is state of the art," He was saying tightly. I could picture him, stting on his armchair, leaning forward on his kness and drawing his lips into a thin line."How exactly could they have gotten past the security codes without a password? Someone is going to lose their job tonight, and I suggest you do everything you can to ensure it's not you."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. My eyes fell on is school bag and I sat there for a moment, letting myself process the fact that I was going to do something unbearably stupid.

Above me the light flickered, then died.

* * *

I stood outside the chocolate shop in semi-darkness, waiting for its owner to turn up. I remembered vividly being here just a couple of days ago. With Chiharu. The air smelled like toxicity, like smoke and pollution. I was used to it, but it didn't mean I had to like it.

A boy who didn't look that much older than me stood smoking outside a nightclub. I looked away when he tried to catch my eye. Considering it was a weekend Kiyoko wouldn't be there for at least another two hours, but I couldn't stay one more minute in that house. There's only so much I could take.

The amount of traffic at six in the morning is amazing. And they call New York the city that never sleeps. I passed a man sleeping by the side of the road on the way over and, on some crazy impulse had given him my coat because... just because. It wasn't really cold. Just too early to be out for any reason.

She came around half seven. Until then I spent time watching water pool into the gutters from the shower the night before, wondering how it was possible that I 'd only had an hour of sleep.

"What're you doin' here this early?" The small black-haired asked. Surprised, and rightly so, to see me haunting her shop at such an unreasonable hour of the morning. "I don't open for another hour."

"I know." I said, shifting awkwardly on the step. "I just... I wanted to ask a favour."

"I ain't giving nothing away for free." Her face hardened and she frowned.

"No nothing like that." I said hurriedly. I rifled through my pockets and produced the other end of a two-way camera walkie-talkie which I bought on the way over in a 'late night' store which opened early for me once they heard the name 'Redmond'.

"Tonight the Valentine's ball is being held." I said. "I know you're catering, and I was hoping... look if I'm not there by ten, would you turn this on? Please?"

"Why?" She took the camera suspiciously. But she had taken it.

"Well, I'm sure nothing would happen at first. But you see, depending on how the next few hours go, I may be in serious need of outside help." I smiled tightly and stepped back from the doorway.

I left when she nodded her assent. Previously I had never considered myself a stupid person. It had taken embarrassingly long, but I had eventually figured out what Kyoya was acutely aware of.

There was no such thing as a repeated coincidence.

My father ends up in jail, while I'm getting repeatedly harassed in school, and suddenly my only friend is kidnapped. Apart from the fact my life was rapidly turning into a bad soap opera, it was all just too convenient for me to pass off as a 'coincidence'.

Someone was deliberately trying to hurt me.

And I didn't appreciate it.

My hair blew loose in the wind for the first time. White strands whipped around my face in the wind as I went to the train station, hands jammed in my pockets. I probably looked homeless. I was wearing an old tracksuit and faded sneakers. It didn't exactly look like I –probably- owned half the world's resources.

_This is utter stupidity._

My mom said. I frowned at her faded image. I was seeing her less and less, I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"I know." I said as the train's doors closed behind me and I played right into the puppet-master's hands. What's worse? That I was going out of choice, or that I was going at all?

I didn't even care.

* * *

_Kyoya, _the note read.

_I'm not sorry that I'm doing this. I'm not in the habit of deserting my friends. But I am sorry that I couldn't talk to you about it. I know you'll stop me. If it makes it any better, I have written a will in case something happens. You'll still get your company. No marriage involved._

_Just so that I don't regret never saying it, forgive a spoiled little girl her sentimentality, but I needed to tell you that I loved you. Or something like that anyway._

_Hopefully I see you tonight. If not then I have a feeling charging into the school fifty men strong won't exactly help my case._

_Tell Dad I'm sorry,_

_Melinda_

If Kyoya were a lesser man, he may heed his uncontrollable urge to throw a chair across the room. Or, even better, rip the note out and go after his stupid girlfriend and-

What was that? Since when had he started referring to Melinda as his 'girlfriend'? Kyoya growled, a low deep sound that originated somewhere inside him that was still raw enough to want to hurt the first person who even tried to hurt her. He wasn't in the habit of lying to himself but... dammit.

What's worse was, she would have told him. That was what she'd been trying to do earlier. Figure something out with him. And he'd snapped at her. Because he was scared and hadn't wanted to think of her getting dragged into some dark alley by someone who wanted to hurt his father. Or her father.

He'd made a royal screw-up of that one. Fuck... the things he'd _said_. He hadn't even meant them. At all. He just didn't want to see her hurt. He should've known it would only make her desperate... he _should've known_, and now she was out there somewhere unarmed and by herself, cheerfully going to meet her death.

If she died, he'd be as guilty as if he'd taken a gun to her head and pulled a trigger himself.

And that note. That stupid note. It wasn't the fact that she'd left that was tearing him apart. He didn't want to lie to himself. It wasn't even the fact that she _knew_ she would likely die.

_I needed to tell you that I loved you. Or something like that anyway.._.

His hands trembled, his nerves were shot, and he did the only thing he could think of.

He called Tamaki.

* * *

It was funny, I doubt anybody but me had ever had the urge to haunt Ouran's cold dark halls at strange hours of the night.

But other people weren't me.

My shoes didn't make much noise and I slipped in fairly quietly. Although, who was I trying to hide from. The whole objective of this was to be found by someone. Lord knows I hadn't a clue where I was going. I brought my hand to the other compact walkie-talkie I had hidden in my pocket and turned it on. It was a tiny thing. A round camera with little holes for speakers at the side which just looked like a fancy button and was hidden by the fall of my long shirt. I had a feeling I'd need it.

If course the whole issue of it working rested heavily on whether or not Kiyoko had actually believed me and haddn't passed me off as a crazy rich person with too little time on her hands. Please God let her have at least tried the thing out by the time the ball started. It was a terrifying feeling, knowing that your life rested on the memory and good judgement of someone who thought you were crazy anyway. I deserved to be certified.

But who else could I have asked?

Haruhi or Honey or Mori would all have asked why they were required to do that, and in the explaining they would quickly have recognized this for what it was- essentially a suicide mission- and tried to stop me. Hikaru hated me enough that he probably wouldn't have cared too much what the hell I was doing, but he also might not have turned the thing on out of spite and I couldn't risk that. Tamaki's house was too far away for me to even attempt making the journey.

I kept walking through long hallways and corridors and tried not to think about the fact that in this huge school where there were countless rooms and ways to get lost... who would know if there was a body hidden somewhere in this labyrinth?

I kept walking and didn't notice the creaking of a door which... hadn't been there a few moments ago. A small hand puppet shaped like a cat peeked out and unblinkingly watched me turn a corner.

My feet led me to the grand staircase leading to the library and the music corridors. I saw Chiharu before I'd even taken the situation in properly, relief washing over me in a sudden wave, before I saw the tall man standing at the end of the hall in a sharp suit. She wasn't bound, but that could mean anything. He could be holding a gun to her back for all I knew. The hall with all its grandeur suddenly seemed much smaller.

"Are you okay Chiharu- has he done anything to you?" I asked, voice trembling in fear as I stared the dark haired man carefully. Chiharu turned to look at me, her head cocked to the side as she stared back. I blinked, wondering why she didn't look a bit more anxious. At the very least I expected her to look a little distressed. Angry at me even.

"No." She said evenly. I would even dare to say she sounded a little amused, though that would make no snese whatsoever and was probably my brain trying to process the situation by substituting humor for fear. I heard you could do that to yourself if you wree scared enough. Isn't that weird? You get so scared that your mind just goes 'right so, reality is a bit less than acceptable at the moment so why don't we substitute it with our own?'

I moved forward a step. Then stopped and wondered what was supposed to happen now. I wasn't exactly aware of the protocol, if any, for the exchange of hostages. I wasn't sure whether I should just scream 'run' and fuck it out of the building, or politely request that she be released and I be taken in her setead before I did something entirely un-ladylike.

Like urinate on myself.

"So you came." The smooth voice sent shivers down my spine. Bad ones, nothing like what Kyoya did to me. "I hope you didn't bring any extra guests."

"That would be rude." I said, more calmly than I felt. "I assume you're the one who... requested my company?"

"No, actually. Chiharu, won't you tell your dear friend why you invited her over today?"

I stood shocked, Like the air had been pummelled out of me.

"...What?" I asked breathlessly.

She walked towards me, freely, with her arms swinging by her side. He had his hands in his pockets, no weapon on sight. Her eyes, googly and adorably confused as ever were cold and hard. A greedy glint in them which I didn't recognize. When she got close enough I couldn't even process how it was possible she was here at all. 'Hostage' she was not.

My eyes drifted over her exposed skin in the dress she wore. Well, no, not a dress, a gown. Blue and flowing and slightly ridiculous in this setting at seven in the morning. No bruises. Perfectly unblemished skin. Perfectly unharmed. A million things seemed to click into place at that moment. How she was never really around when I was dealing with my vandalized locker. How she was conveniently absent when my father was in court. The whole time she was...

I don't consider myself a stupid person. I closed my eyes and swallowed the acid that burned against the back of my throat. I was just... optimistic I suppose. But hadn't I known that people would use me to get to my money? Not to this extent I suppose, but how many times had Mom and Dad warned me not to trust anyone too quickly? How many times had they drilled into me to choose my friends carefully and not be rash? I shook violently and wished fervently that I hadn't been so obnoxious and stayed home. Stayed safe. With Kyoya.

God Kyoya. A painful flare of regret sparked in the pit of my stomach. A note. Who leaves a note? What the hell? You left notes to tell people you'd be late for dinner. Or that you were picking something up from the store. Or that you left the car-keys in the hall.

I didn't even have the fucking balls to say goodbye to his face.

"Chiharu?" I asked weakly, knees giving out. My eyes were trained on her, I couldn't make myself look away. I didn't understand. How could... Chiharu? I fell ungracefully and tried to breathe again. My body was a tight mixed jumble of nerves and emotions and as Chiharu's fist descended on my unprotected face my tenuous grip on stability broke. Pain exploded behind my eyes and I lost my balance, kissing the floor.

"Yes _dah-ling_, it was me." She said proudly, sarcasm dripping from her lips like poison. She stood next to the tall suited man comfortably, like she was used to being there. She was comfortable. "The cross-eyed freak. You honestly can't believe your little charity case would turn against you, can you dear?" She bent at the waist to look me in the eye while I coughed. "Well Melinda, I am eternally grateful to your stupidity." Her face twisted into something ugly and before the stars in front of my eyes could clear pain exploded at my temple again. She had a surprisingly strong left hook. I was sent reeling again, banging my head against the floor and eliciting a whimper from my mouth. Fuck, why hadn't I listened?

"Now now Chiharu darling, that's hardly polite." The man said flippantly. Chiharu merely sneered. S_neered_. It was a terrifying expression which should have looked awkward on her face, but didn't. I wasn't sure if that meant she was so used to conveying so much venom and bitterness in one look. Pain bloomed in my hip next, the unmistakable dig of pointed heels left a painful imprint and I hoped to God the bitter tang in my mouth wasn't blood. "Come, I'm sure you wouldn't want to miss seeing my brother fail spectacularly tonight at being the favourite son. Finish this so we aren't late."

Brother? Fear gripped my heart and I swear I almost stopped breathing. He could only be talking about Kyoya, but I was too dazed to take in much more than that. I bit my lip hard to stop from screaming. I'd read somewhere that some people only did this to hear their victims scream. Fuck them if they thought I was going to give them that pleasure. It honestly didn't occur to me that they probably had more effective methods of wringing screams from an unwilling victim if they truly wanted to. More effective than simply whacking me around a bit.

"Patience is truly not your strong point." She said somewhere over my head in a voice so at odds with the way I saw her it made my head reel. He laughed. I was more scared that they weren't making threats and shouting at me if I were honest. This was so much worse, that they were conversing lightly as though what they were talking about wasn't of any more consequence than the weather. I heard rustling and a sharp pain blossomed on my shoulder followed by a rush of fluid. I hated injections enough to be familiar with how exactly the damned things felt.

"Sleep well." She crooned in my ear, her voice obscenely sweet.

"Fuck you."I managed to spit out through the pain. My hip burned and my head... I was sure that if I hadn't been as stupid as everyone seemed to want to claim before this, I would shortly be. That many blows to the head can't do anyone any good. Chiharu, for some reason didn't appreciate the sentiment and jabbed the empty needle repeatedly into my thigh. I cried out- then cut myself off and bit my tongue.

"What was that Melinda?" She asked politely. I didn't say anything, struggling for a few moments against pain and confusion and more pain, before the blurry darkness at the edge of my vision took over entirely and I fell back like a puppet whose strings had been cut. My motor functions ceased to listen to me and I lay limp.

"I said..." I fought to get the words out before the ability to do so was robbed from me by unconsciousness. "Fuck you... you poisonous...bitch."

The blow to my head told me, no, she indeed did not appreciate the sentiment.

My body slumped on the ground and my mind, for a few moments had just enough time to wonder 'why'.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys. Another week, another chapter and, can you believe it, we are actually approaching an end of sorts. That's a bit weird, I don't think I've ever finished anything concrete- ever. And certainly not on FF, so wow. This is big. Thank you for all your reviews- I'd respond to them personally but I'm pressed on time and my number one priority is actually get the chapter online!**

**So thank you to my beta- who is very tolerant with me :)**

**Thank you to those of you who stuck it out for the whole thing and have faithfully followed this thing (though God knows why -_-) ****Thank you if you've only made yourself known and reviewed once (It's a great kick up the ass. Reminds me I should actually be doing something!) ****And thank you to all those lurkers who have not as yet made themselves known but still read this fic whenever I update. ****So now that I'm done being cheesy (and you should take it that there is an implied disclaimer hidden in the above drivel) I'm curious. The question must be asked.**

**Sequel anyone?**

**~Mari**

* * *

When I came to, I was lying in a pool of my own vomit in a room by myself. My rasping breath sounded harsh to my own ears, coming loud and ragged. It felt like someone was ripping it from my throat and was pressing down hard on my chest. White hot pain, like someone had forced me to swallow boiling water then told me to eat a chili pepper. It was a painful process, and previously I had never realized how many passages and airways your breath has to travel to reach your lungs. I'd have preferred to stay ignorant really. My hands were tied roughly behind my back with something that wasn't rope, but smelled bad, like sweaty gym socks that haven't been washed in a month. Or four. My cheek was lying in the puddle and the smell is probably what woke me more than anything else. It was strong and acidic, it burned the back of my throat, but I didn't make any move to spit it out or clear my throat. In fact, I didn't move. End of. Every muscle in my body screamed out in pain.

My vision was blurry, even when I could see forward properly, and slowly, very slowly I realized that ironically, I was being kept in the third music room. Of all the places in this huge school they could have dumped me, they chose the Host Club headquarters? It was funny. Utterly hilarious. Totally...

Shit. My head hurt when I thought too hard. A painful haze lowered over my mind and my legs burned like hell. I was sure if I looked down I'd see the pock marks where she'd stabbed me. Where Chiharu had... where Chiharu-

I closed my eyes and sobbed bitterly in my own bile.

* * *

It was customary that the Valentine's Ball was to be held in exquisite style and obscene grandeur, and the general rule of thumb was that elegance must, at all times, take a backseat to how much you could spend on shiny glittery things which would necessitate the inclusion of a 'ps, sunglasses required' on the invitations. Naturally.

Kyoya Ootori stood at the bow of the large yacht in a tuxedo which looked like it had been painstakingly stitched around his frame to mold to his every move. Tamaki Suoh stood beside him like a blond haired guardian angel. Haruhi and the others were mingling, exchanging meaningless niceties and trying to navigate the huge yacht without losing themselves in its seemingly endless halls. It was a monster of a boat, big enough to swallow three or four large houses and still have room for a garage, so really it was a 'ship' not a yacht. Big enough to be commercially viable- but owned and designed by people with enough money to use the extra space for the necessities in life. Like lavish balls.

"Why am I here?" The dark haired boy murmured to the black water, contemplating its depth and wondering how far down it was. Not that he'd do anything... drastic. It was mere curiosity that drew his eye. The water moved, the tides changed, yet it still kept that same inexorable, fathomless beauty regardless of whether it was still, or raging at the sky and trying to escape its confines. A memory of cold brown eyes was brought, unbidden, to the surface of his thoughts. And stubbornly stayed there.

Puzzled yet sensing his friend's dark mood Tamaki blinked at him from his perch on the railing. He'd refused to leave his side all night. "What do you mean? You're the one hosting this party."

Kyoya laughed, a dry sound that held no humor in it and wasn't comforting in the least. His heart was thrumming anxiously, almost jumping out of his chest in fear. He clenched his hands and stubbornly refused to meet his friend's eye. He moved constantly, finding that somehow he'd forgotten where he was supposed to put his hands or how he was supposed to stand, and if he thought about it too deeply he found that he could quite easily forget how to breathe as well.

"Yes, although considering it's an engagement party it does seem to be missing a rather key element. Namely, a bride-to-be."

A warm hand rested on his shoulder, Tamaki's heat burned through his ice. As it always had. "Kyoya, we'll find her. Whatever you're thinking just... don't. It'll all be okay."

"And you can be sure of that, can you?" Kyoya asked, frustrated that the anger he'd intended to load that question with was not there, but instead replaced with something plaintive. He sounded like a lost little boy dammit.

"Yes, I can." Tamaki said firmly, in a voice so certain it made his frantic heart still for a few seconds before his rationality kicked in and he reasoned that no, Tamaki really could not be sure of such a thing. The little boy within him protested this logic but Kyoya quelled the small voice easily under the weight of his fear.

"How?" And thank God that, at least, sounded as bitter as he felt.

The boy next to him just shrugged, staring at the last ray of sun on the horizon as it was lost to the night and the sky darkened to a deep purple bejewelled with stars, not so many now, and not so bright, but steadily coming out of hiding.

"I know Melinda. She'll be okay, she can look after herself."

And Kyoya bit his lip, biting down the urge to run his hand through his hair, or punch the railing, or just generally do something violent and release his guilt so that it wouldn't gnaw at him from the inside anymore. His glasses fogged, and he delicately removed them and drew out his glasses case to clean them, not wanting to be reminded of chocolate blue glasses and white hair.

* * *

Hikaru watched the small waitress. Not that he was in the habit of watching the hired help but honestly, when one was behaving as oddly as this little munchkin was, how could he not notice? No one person could fiddle with their clothes that much. He was probably paranoid, he wasn't quite sure what about her had drawn his attention in the first place. Quite frankly, she was plain. But he was on edge, like everyone else in the club. Who knew Melinda had actually managed to make him... _care_ about her? Damn, women were sneaky. It was taking all the decorum he did not possess to stand, champagne glass in hand, and politely woo Lady Something-Or-Other before his brother relieved him of mingling duty and he got to rest a bit. It wasn't as if anyone would be able to tell anyway. As far as this girl was concerned, she'd still be talking to 'Hikaru'.

He smiled at her, charmingly when he saw her pout.

"Your mind seems to be elsewhere tonight." She said, latching on to something she saw as a potential 'romance'. "On another _girl_ perhaps..." She grinned like the cat that got the obese canary with a side of cream. He recoiled and resisted the urge to step back. That, for some reason he couldn't quite remember, would be a Bad Idea.

"What would make you say that?" He deflected smoothly.

"Aha!" She clapped her hands in the kind of unholy glee that always scared him a little and made him wish for the days when he could just ignore annoying girls without fear of retribution from the Love Deity that was Tamaki. "You didn't deny it! So come on, out with it- who is she?" The small brunette wagged a finger in his face.

The black haired waitress turned at the sudden outburst, but rolled her eyes when she saw it was just another of the Host Club's clients- such outbursts were growing annoyingly frequent throughout the night- and kept fiddling with her... button? Hikaru stared blankly at her, frowned, and sipped his wine.

But unfortunately didn't look away quickly enough for her not to notice his decidedly 'odd' behaviour.

"Oh, who's she?" She asked with undisguised curiosity. Then blinked again and looked back and forth between Hikaru and the diminutive woman in question. "Oh- that's so cute! This is just like Cinderella, where the prince- you- falls for the poor middle-class slave! Oh Hikaru, you're so romantic." She clasped her hands to her gem studded chest, starry eyed and lost in some fantasy of her own.

He blinked at the energetic ball of 'hyper' in front of him, confusion written in every line of his face. She reminded him of Renge. But less conservative. He shuddered. "What?" He asked, not having been this lost since his teachers had decided to throw the alphabet into Math, called it 'algebra' and said 'now off you go'. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Kaoru slipping through the crowd towards them.

"Excuse me, I need to refill my champagne."

"Yes, go drag her behind a screen and have your wicked way with her." She nodded sagely with a dark leer. "It's for the best."

Weird.

His face faulted, but deciding he didn't want to risk her numerous mental illnesses being contagious in some way and made his exit tossing back the rest of his disappointingly non- alcoholic alcohol (how did that work?) to find the weird waitress. He caught her shoulder just as she was going back to the kitchen.

"Excuse m -"

"Oi, get off me!" His eyes slipped down to the badge he wore which proudly proclaimed 'Kiyoko' in elaborate script. She tossed back the hand that made its home on her shoulder, and stopped when she met his eye, feeling like she'd just gone three rounds in a ring with Tyson. "Je-sus Christ." She breathed.

"Who are you?" Hikaru asked bluntly, patience gone with his last client. Kiyoko blinked back her sudden dizziness and wondered if her shrimp had gone bad. Poisoning half of Japan's elite was not something that would look good on a resume to any potential client.

"Whaddaya mean who am I? You're the one grabbing people. Who're _ye_?"

"A peasant. Charming." Hikaru gave a long-suffering sigh. "Look, you seem suspicious to me. Anybody who plays with their clothes that much is either abnormally self-conscious – which by the way is impossible when you've been as busy as you are- or hiding something. So I want to know what _that_ is." He pointed.

"Well keep wondering." Kiyoko scowled. "It's none of your business, and who the hell are ye to go demanding personal information from people ye don't even know?"

"So it _is _personal?" Hikaru smirked. The smaller girl- she only came up to his shoulder- stormed off in annoyance. He kept the smirk as he tread the soft carpet in his designer shoes out to the deck. Then he let it slip and rubbed a hand over his face wishing darkly that Kyoya had thought to stock actual alcohol. Between avoiding his parents, making nice with the guests and trying to figure out whether everyone would hate him forever because of what had happened with Melinda. He'd never meant to take he joke that far. That's all it had been. A bad joke. And Kyoya probably wouldn't want to be seen with him anymore after this. Not to mention Melinda herself...

He rubbed his eyes. The damn salt made them tear.

"You okay?" Kaoru stepped beside him. Hikaru straightened, springing to life and smiling too brightly.

"Perfectly fine."

Kaoru just stared, his skepticism didn't need a voice.

"...That obvious?"

"To me." Kaoru said worriedly. "Hikaru, what exactly is wrong? You don't talk to me anymore and... quite frankly I'm worried."

"...It's all her fault." Hikaru said softly screwing his eyes and trying to look blase. Yet failing utterly at looking anything but exhausted. "I don't like breaking my toys. But what am I supposed to do when they run off without giving me a chance to fix them?" He asked helplessly.

Kaoru looked at him, considering. Then just took his hand and held it.

There wasn't much more to say.

* * *

My eyes were glued shut, so I didn't sense immediately when the tall man entered the room. Silent and cat-like and dressed immaculately in a suit like his father's. Black hair slicked back in the Ootori fashion. He didn't say anything, just stood and watched me. My breathing came in painful gasps which reverberated throughout the room. A pen dropped, clattered out of his hand and onto the polished floor. It was quite deliberate, the sound was intended to startle me and make me wonder how long he'd been watching me before I knew he was there. Intimidation tactics. He was making sure I knew the ball was, not just in his court, but that he had every intention of breaking the rules and travelling with it.

I made my hands stop trembling against the floor and told myself to put it in perspective. If I panicked, I would die. Simple as that. I was lying in an awkward position, my right hand was twisted underneath me and burned like nobodies business. My legs were sprawling in two different directions.

Absently I mused that I hadn't known I could bend that way. Gym would have definitely been much more productive if I'd known what an amazing contortionist I'd turn out to be.

It was out of place, this scene, amongst the bright yellow of the room. Pink roses still littered the floor and it smelled like biscuits and cakes. I had spent more time in this room than possibly anywhere else in the whole damned school. Excluding classrooms, because those were very rarely good experiences. It was the Host Club, it was an escape. That was the point. It was a fairytale that you could run to and become whoever you wanted to be. You could be a princess or a queen or... or even just a secretary.

I had no bad memories of this room. Isn't that strange?

"Melinda," he called softly. His smooth voice coated me like honey.

My body rejected it like poison. The very sound of his voice infected my mind by making my thoughts sticky with fear, but I risked showing him weakness at my own peril. Quite literally. I felt something resolve within me, and I decided that I'd be damned if I let him take advantage of me on my own turf.

He chuckled. "Come now darling, I know you are in a less than desirable position, but we must make the best of it." He encouraged in the most effortlessly charming tones I've ever heard, practised to perfection.

"What do you want Jirou?" My voice was unrecognizable and more reminiscent of nails scraping a chalkboard than my usual low drawl. The vomit had dried beneath my face, and crusted one cheek, little flakes fell off and went up my nose. I didn't make any effort to sit up or clean myself. I had lost the will to fight when, after the first two hours of my screaming for help I was backhanded into the wall, falling awkwardly and catching my chin on the wooden armrest on Kyoya's wide armchair. Something was bleeding, I was pretty sure.

"I want a lot of things Ms. Redmond." He said contemplatively. I almost didn't hear. "One of which happens to be you." He brightened suddenly. "Oh but I forgot, you're still hung up on my weedy little brother, aren't you?"

Silence reigned for three counts of my heartbeat. Then I painfully pushed myself up to my elbows, and leaned against the chair, clutching my ribs when it felt like they were pushing their way out of my chest forcibly. I struggled to open my eyes, but managed it finally and stared straight at him. I heard him take a sharp breath and wondered just how bad the damage was. Well I'd never win any beauty pageants with this face, I thought wryly to myself.

"Jirou Ootori..." I searched his face, then looked away and snorted. Collecting myself. When I spoke again I was surprisingly lucid for someone who had just realized that the iron at the back of her throat which her saliva glands were diluting was blood. And not just a little bit, a good mouthful was swirling around in there. For some reason entertaining the thought of swallowing it back down again didn't quite sit well with me. "You know, I find you funny." I decided finally. It was at this point that I think what was left of my mind decided to go for a walk and leave my body to function as best it could without it. Needless to say, there was no way that was going to be a good thing.

"Really?" He asked, stepping closer to me in shoes that squeaked slightly against the polished floor now that I was listening for it. They were black leather Prada things which made me roll my eyes. Inwardly of course, outwardly I was sill too scared to do more than try and project an air of aloofness which I didn't feel. I was hiding behind a mask. And the funny thing is it wasn't the 'I want you' comment which had driven me to it- although that was disturbing enough in its own right- it was the personal affront I felt when the man I loved was described to my face as 'weedy'. "You see _humour _in this? Well please, elaborate." He raised his eyebrow. I ignored the quirk and pulled myself the rest of the way to slump in Kyoya's chair. I winced. The movement jarred my body.

"Why shouldn't I?" I asked blandly. "You're such an... idiot. No, excuse me, a _clown."_

_"_A clown." He repeated in a voice as dry as paper.

"Yes." I informed him, drunk with fear. I let a giggle slip. "I keep expecting a red nose to sprout on your face. What exactly do you think you stand to gain from this farce?"

He blinked in surprise, his perfectly groomed cuffs creased as he rubbed his sleeves up and down. He was a dangerous man, I reminded myself. But I'd already decided I would die here anyway. So what did it really matter? "Excuse me?"

"Yes, you're excused for interrupting me." I looked at him sharply. I wasn't quite feeling myself. The more I spoke the more I lost myself to a numb fear which made me lose all sense of self. I wondered if I was truly schizophrenic. Or bipolar, perhaps. It would make perfect sense. "Now I'm sure you're very used to manipulating teenage girls and having innocent people thrown in federal prisons, but I don't think you know what exactly you're up against here my dear man. And you're going to have quite an unpleasant surprise when you finally wake up and smell the shit."

_Good girl. Be brave. _Mom reassured me from her intangible perch on the piano stool. I didn't look. She was dead. Dead. That meant this was my imagination. That meant I was a severely messed up individual, and I didn't want to have to ponder the details. If I was going to suicide I didn't want to start angsting about her too. My Hamlet- esque monologue was going well, I could see him steadily becoming more infuriated. I was pushing him closer to the edge. If this were a cartoon I'd expect smoke to start protruding from his ears and nose at this point.

"Presumably, you and your brothers are used to walking over Kyoya because you simply assume that because he's _younger_than you he's less talented or less ambitious. Am I right?" I asked in a voice devoid of any emotion. My words should've been those of an angry, terrified woman. My words _were_those of an angry terrified woman. My demeanor, however, said something entirely different. "Well my friend, you'd better rethink that assessment real quick because that boy is going to be on your asses like a fucking bloodhound." I chuckled mirthlessly, staring outside through the large french doors which led to the balcony. Directly opposite Kyoya's chair. "If I were you I wouldn't waste my time trying to salvage what's left of your credibility and simply leave now. God knows, either way you've already lost."

The suave man dropped his facade and for the first time his smile slipped off his face and the corners of his mouth straightened in a hard unforgiving line. Anger glinted icy in his dark eyes. His features hardened into the stony mask I had expected them to be in from the start. This whole 'I'm so much more comfortable than I appear to be' act was obviously false. Unless he made a habit of kidnapping helpless young girls- which I couldn't completely rule out- he was just as new to Villain Protocol as I was. My ears rang a little. I ignored it.

"Oh really?" He asked dangerously. He toyed with the wrist piece of his Rolex, smiling in a way that promised all sorts of violent things. I smiled and wondered how long it would take for him to snap. I was surprised. He should've been more resilient; having Kyoya for a brother and all. "Well you seem to have forgotten that right now I'm the one who holds all the cards."

There was that, I acquiesced grimly. In my own head of course. I quickly sorted through various nonsensical thoughts. You have to understand that when someone has truly reached the end- and I mean _truly_ believes they're not long for the world, all rationality, logic and common sense flies out of the window. Keeping in mind he and I were alone in a deserted building, I was tied up in smelly sock-rags and he obviously had the upper hand... well I suppose you understand why I deduced that my chances of survival were slim to none. So why care when or how he did it?

He was going to kill me either way. No matter what he said. I could see the intent in his eyes.

And I was going to go kicking and screaming the whole way down.

_That's enough now. _She frowned at me, obviously concerned. I ignored it, some hidden sadistic streak was emerging. I couldn't seem to stop. _You've said enough._

I looked at him curiously. "Oh? Why? Because you kidnapped me? Is that it?"

_Melinda, I said that's enough._

"Precisely." He said, recovering some of his nonchalance, becoming reassured of his genius.

"Well let's say you do kill me." I speculated. "And by some miracle, you got out of this with your reputation intact. How exactly do you think you're going to bargain then? I'm your only bargaining chip my dear boy, and if I refuse to be a pawn, then you're as screwed as a fucking nail." I glared, unforgiving.

"What-"

I couldn't stop.

_Melinda! Do you want to die?_

"And if you reveal your identity- as I suspect you must because honestly everyone will figure it out when suddenly you're the one in possession of the two companies- you're still fucked because then you have the police chasing you. As they should."

"Will you-"

What's worse, I _wanted_ to. I wanted to stop.

_Oh my... I can't watch this anymore._

"Oh and let's not forget that pesky law. You know the one. Where murder is still punishable by death in several Chinese countries and Japanese officials aren't all that fussy when it comes to the lives of two international figures being threatened. I'm the next CEO of Redmond industries, my dear. This kind of thing doesn't look good in public relations." I assured him.

_Melinda. Turn it on. Turn the bloody camera on. Now._

He strode across the room in three long steps and wrapped his hands around my neck. Then squeezed. "Shut up." He growled, face turning puce. I gasped, a warbled sound that barely made it through as he robbed me of my air, fingers holding me tight enough to bruise. I spat blood into his face and he cringed, letting go with one hand to wipe it off. I fell back in the seat, drawing comfort in the madness that seemed to have found me. Although if I was mad, then I'd expect mother to be getting clearer, instead of the hazy vision she was. I blinked and felt the ghost of her touch trace my forehead. Invisible lips kissed me. She smiled.

_Goodbye love. I can't stay anymore. _She said. And when I nodded, she was gone.

A strange kind of peace came over me and I felt... whole. For the first time in months, I felt like me. And I realized that perhaps while I thought I'd been coping I'd just been... grieving I suppose. Pretending she had never left so I wouldn't have to deal with the fact that she had. If it hadn't been so completely inappropriate, I may have smiled. Jirou was still cursing at me, trying to wipe down the small stain on his immaculate- well, previously immaculate- silk shirt.

"Didn't think this through very well, did you?" I smirked into his face, knowing I was only infuriating him further and loving every minute of it. Let the bastard suffer. Let him get frustrated and annoyed and wish I'd been just another one of those simpering heiresses he knew how to cow.

Let him regret messing with me.

It was the least I could do.

I allowed his shout of rage to vibrate through me, and had just enough time to press 'on' and fling the button somewhere I hoped to God it would catch me on film before he was on me and I realized that perhaps I wasn't the only one who was half-mad.

* * *

The small pudgy man walked quickly down the small corridor. He stank of stale sweat and day old beer, but his eyes were clear, if a little fearful. His heavy steps led him up first one flight of stairs, then another, then another until finally he stood, out of breath in front of the large cell where they kept Richard Redmond. Swallowing audibly the man withdrew a ring of keys from his pocket and, fumbling with the numerous large metal keys, finally found the right one and inserted it into the lock with a loud click.

Richard opened his eyes. He was lying on his back on the gray cement block they had the gall to call a bed and thinking. He'd had a lot of time to think. Spending twenty-four hours alone in a prison cell meant he had nothing to do but think.

"S-sir? Mr R-redmond?" The short man stammered, scared witless and doing his best not to shame himself and stain his trousers in front of this influential man. Richard raised blue eyes to meet his and slung his legs over the side of his bed.

"Yes?" He questioned archly. The other man swallowed.

"Y-you may not remember, I'm-"

"How could I forget?" Richard drawled. "You're the judge who relegated me to this godforsaken dump. Have you come to relieve me of my few remaining rights? The ones which have not, as yet been utterly bastardized?"

"I'm sorry!" The man bowed low and clasped his hands in front of his head in a prayer position. Richard blinked. "I did not realize when the man approached me what he meant by 'holding you'. I assumed he wanted the case delayed- and when I refused he threatened my daughter and I couldn't... I couldn't..." His voice broke in a sob and the sorry man opened the door wider. "No apology I make could be enough, but I am sincere. My word isn't worth much anymore, but its all I have."

"Why are you here?" Richard asked bluntly, but not unkindly, going to stand by the open door yet making no move to step beyond it. His movements were casual, almost overly so, but the portly man was acutely aware that the young businessman could quite easily knock him out cold from that position. And probably do worse as well. "If this is a prison break, you can forget it right now because-"

"I have already received word from Mr. Ootori himself that all charges against you have been withdrawn and as of now you are a free man once more." The fat man said, eyes squinted shut, not quite willing to look the tall man directly in the eye. For his part, Richard simply regarded the small, sorry looking specimen presented to him. And felt nothing but overwhelming pity.

"Just like that?" The English businessman asked skeptically. The fat judge swallowed.

"Well, no. I'm to take your place on charges of perverting justice, abuse of power and fraud." He said in a whispered rush, as if unable to believe it himself.

Richard knew the feeling. He knew it well.

"And how am I to know this isn't a trap?" He asked reasonably.

"You don't." The man replied, wiping sweat as it trickled down his face from his hairline. "But I assume since your daughter-"

"What about Melinda?" Richard suddenly stared at the man sharply.

"Ootori hasn't told you?" He asked, genuinely puzzled.

Richard grabbed the man by the lapels of his jacket and held him up so they were speaking face to face. "What. About. Melinda?" He enunciated, making the threat in his voice clear.

Belatedly the man realized that it was too late to salvage the pants he was wearing.

* * *

Kiyoko dropped the loaded tray she was carrying in the middle of the dance floor, attracting the attention of each and every patron and caring not a single whit. Shrimp and cocktail sausages and sandwiches scattered in a mass of coloured food, and three hours of hard work decorated the floor. She didn't seem to notice, trembling as she examined the small button on her shirt flashing red. Kiyoko hadn't actually _done_ anything, merely bumped into one of the couples floating past in a flurry of coloured silk and watched in amazement as it sprouted a thin stalk at the top which had then unrolled into a small screen. She'd stared blankly for a long time, not making head or tails of the shadows she was seeing across the screen, then almost dropped the thing when she realized that if she turned it upside down she could identify it clearly.

"Oh fuck." She gasped in horror. For two long minutes she stared at the scene, unmoving watching as large hands clenched around a pale harsh neck. When finally she regained her wits she frantically searched the hall with wild eyes and wondering where the hell a guard- or a Host- was when you needed one. Well she didn't find one. But she did find a quiet young man with glasses standing alone at the gazebo beside the musicians. He had stared, as everyone else had when she screamed. The music had stopped playing, she realized dimly.

Kiyoko was not stupid. She may have dropped out of school early to start a business that didn't really gain much profit in the first place, she may have ended up in the wrong part of town with the wrong people, she may be several thousand yen in debt, but she was not stupid. However she did seem to be paralyzed. It was like watching a train wreck. Horrible, disgusting- you didn't want to see it. But for some reason, you couldn't look away. Her mouth parted, eyes watching in numb disbelief as the man struck the slight girl's cheek and reopened a long gash from the girls temple to the corner of her lip. White hair stained red.

Sensitive to the noise Hiakru came from the deck to stand beside her, Kaoru walking tentatively behind his brother. The tall red-head moved smoothly, the crowd parting for him automatically, when he reached the hysterical girl she was on the verge of tears. She looked up at him with large watery eyes, glancing between him and the horror movie playing on the small screen. It was about the size of a sim card and the picture was shown clearly in bright colour. Kyoya followed, his curiosity getting the better of him although really, he doubted he could care less about a waitress's menstrual issues.

"What is it?" Hikaru asked staring at the picture at several angles before settling on one where he could just make out a body. "Kyoya, is that Jirou? What's he... doing?" He frowned at the picture.

"Let me see." Kaoru stared over his shoulder, squinting in confusion at the small screen. For people used to viewing everything on screens at least fifty inches wide, the strain on their eyes was a new and unusual experience they weren't sure they were ready for. If this was what peasants had to deal with, no wonder Haruhi had eye problems.

"Give it here." Kyoya said quietly, forcefully. Hikaru looked at the older boy, saw the set of his shoulders and the line of his mouth, and handed the small camera over without debate. There were a few moments of silence. It wasn't true silence. The men and women around them- the creme de la creme of high society- hadn't had such a tasty piece of gossip in a while. They watched the drama unfold with the interest a vulture would give to a decaying piece of meat, commenting from time to time on what a 'wonderful' night it had been.

"Tamaki." He looked at the other boy. He didn't raise his voice- he didn't need to. The blond boy was right beside him.

"Kyoya, what's going on? Is everything alright?" Tamaki looked at his friend, saw through the hard set of his lips to the rare fragility in his eyes and looked at the disc he'd been offered in alarm. It didn't take two seconds for him to understand. Of course it helped that Melinda had let out a truly bloodcurdling scream at that moment.

"...You can go. It's okay." He looked into his friend's eyes. Kyoya wavered, eyes flickering to the door.

"I have responsibilities here." He clenched his fists at his side and looked around the hall, utterly still. Tamaki frowned.

"Kyoya." He said firmly. The boy looked at him. "Just. Go."

He hesitated. Then in a flurry of movement flung off his coat and ran out of the hall like the hounds of hell were at his feet.

Haruhi came to stand at Tamki's left, conveying her concern with a touch to his arm. He looked at her hand, then covered it with his own silently. They both stared at their friend's bruised bloody face, words making their way through disjointedly.

_"And Chiharu. Where'd you pick her up? I wasn't aware of any brothels within a twenty mile radius. I hope you get yourself checked after exposing yourself to that for so long."_Melinda was flung across the side of the room for that one with a sickening crunch that had Haruhi hiding her face in Tamaki's sleeve. The boy desperately tamped down the urge to be violently sick.

_"You're getting better- I think you may actually have broken something that time. Good job. I bet it must be so hard, attacking someone half your size." _

"Holy mother of- is she doing that on purpose?" Hikaru breathed, utterly thrown.

"Indeed." Tamaki agreed, somewhat green.

"Why?" Kaoru asked, horrified.

"Haven't a fucking clue." Haruhi answered weakly, riveted. And it says something that none of them noticed or even cared that for the first time since they'd met her, she'd used an expletive stronger than 'darn'. Although quite frankly the situation did call for it. They winced collectively as again Jirou's fist connected with Melinda's face. Hard.

Honey and Mori found their way to them through the crowd having been detained by the dessert table for the last hour or so, and therefore mostly oblivious to their surroundings. Well Honey was. He was just lucky he had Mori there to look out for him and tell him when strange things were occurring.

"What happened? Where's Kyoya?" Honey asked, childishly worried and holding on to Mori's hand. The other boy remained silent. Nobody answered him. In fact its doubtful that anybody heard the small boy. He repeated his questioned twice before finally frustration got the better of him.

"GUYS!" He bellowed. One by one four sets of eyes blinked up at him. Tamaki raised a single brow. Eerily reminiscent of Kyoya.

"Just watch it!" Kiyoko interjected quietly, her nerves wrecked, her mind unable to process what she saw. Hikaru looked at her, blinking out of his daze. The thing was still playing. She wished she could turn it off again.

Tamaki kept watching, eyes shining suspiciously, obviously having a hard time comprehending how the image could possibly correspond to the girl he knew. Honey's expression bypassed 'childish' and went straight to 'vengeful'. Kiyoko took a step back, wondering why even though the tall dark one was just as incensed it was the small blond one she was scared of most.

"Has anybody thought to call the police?" Honey asked quietly.

"I'll take care of it." Kiyoko said quickly, and made her escape on legs which felt like they'd been put through a blender a few times. The last she saw of them, the small group was calmly making their way through the crowded room and politely suggesting that everyone leave before they were forcibly thrown overboard...

And in the corner a small black haired girl in a beautiful blue dress watched the proceedings with wrathful eyes which crossed at the bridge of her nose. The champagne glass she had held was crushed in her hand, shards littering the floor, her dress stained irretrievably.

Her face flushed in anger and she wondered how even though Melinda had lost; she'd still won.


	14. Chapter 14

**This was hell to revise. Truly. I accidentally deleted the document. *glares at computer* But I'm sick so I get the whole day to fix stuff. Kinthinia would agree this is a lot less confusing than it originally was. Note that I say _less _confusing. I hope you don't have too much difficulty reading the damn thing *sighs* And to every reviewer I haven't replied to as of yet- you are totally appreciated, I just get very little oppurtunity to do anything except upload chapters. I will remedy that- I promise!**

**WARNING: Um.. I think this chapter really does deserve a warning for gratuitous violence. Nothing that would give you nightmares or anything, and it's not even graphic, it's just the fact that it kinda sneaks up on you. I don't want to say what it is so it remains a surprise for those who decide to read it, but tread carefully. That's all I'm saying ^^ With that said... I'm thinking sequel, but I don't want to focus solely on Melinda and Kyoya. I'll leave them for my oneshots. I've already introduced two characters I'm toying with. You already know Kiyoko (a bit ^^) and you'll get to see Alma soon. So whose story would you rather I tell?**

**I leave it up to you :) I disclaim. Ouran, sadly, does not belong to me. However my psychologically imbalanced characters do. ^^**

**~Mari**

* * *

_At the ball..._

"Excuse me?" Kiyoko asked dropping a cocktail sausage. She blinked up at the sour faced chef incredulously from where she was busily trying to arrange the appetizers for dinner, which was rapidly becoming a veritable disaster considering the chaos in the other room. "What do ye mean I'm fired?"

The other waitresses and chefs either busied themselves with things that would take them out of the room or, if they couldn't find an excuse to leave, cast her sympathetic looks whenever possible. Kiyoko didn't see them. Her attention was focused on the woman in front of her, the prestigious, _european_, Ms. Callaghan, informing her that, in essence, this would be the third week she wouldn't be able to afford rent and eating cereal with cold water. Her throat dried up, it became increasingly harder to create moisture. She took a step away and carefully refrained from punching the infuriating woman's face in.

"Your behaviour tonight has been utterly unproffesional and I simply cannot tolerate that in my kitchen. I have a reputation to uphold and if you jeopardize that then I'm not going to be 'nice'." Callaghan was holding a butchers knife dangerously in one hand and a spatula in the other. Her long face was set in a grim frown which only made Kiyoko want to scream all the more. Kiyoko wiped her wet hands on her apron and put the cucumber she'd been slicing carefully to the side before she even trusted herself to speak.

"With all due respect ma'am, ye don't know half of what happened tonight. I'll thank you not to make judgements of me or my business based on an isolated incident." She struggled with the words, knowing that half of the reason the woman disapproved of her so much was because of the way she spoke. 'Colloquial' she'd sniffed when Kiyoko had first introduced herself. Her face grew hot with frustration. She couldn't help it- it didn't matter so much anyway. The way she spoke had no bearing whatsoever on the way she cooked.

"Be that as it may," She screwed up her face like she'd smelled something bad. "I still cannot accept that one of my waitresses- a caterer too, no less- would fraternize with the guests with such familiarity. So please, take your desserts, and leave." She thrust the wicker basket into Kiyoko's arms carelessly. Some of the pieces fell out and broke on the floor. Kiyoko watched them fall with dismay, seeing days of baking and planning and preparation go down the proverbial drain. Losing her job for no apparent reason, that she could somewhat 'accept'- this she had to take as a personal insult. The woman sniffed disparagingly.

"Clean that up." She said brusquely and turned to leave with a dismissive glance.

"No wait- where are you going?" She called at the woman's retreating back.

"To do real work." The woman said rudely. "Be gone before I call security."

Kiyoko gaped and started after her but stopped when she only wound up stepping on the chocolate and grinding it further into the carpet. She stopped, stared at the pieces, then knelt and started collecting the larger ones in the palm of her hand. Laughter spilled into the almost-empty kitchen as the door opened and two tall figures stepped in, arguing about something.

"What do you mean I lost her? You were the one who-" The person stopped speaking abruptly, cutting themselves off. She looked up and met two identical faces. Both regarding her with twin speculative and inrigued expressions. She snorted and went back to picking the larger chocolate pieces off the floor. This had been a model engagement ring. The Ootori boy had showed her the elaborate thing and it had taken three days to get right. She shuddered. Not that it would matter if they didn't get to the poor girl soon.

She picked up her backpack from where she'd dropped it on the floor beside her work station and emptied the contents of her hand into the nearest bin.

"Why aren't you out there serving?" One of them asked. The rude one who had cost her this job. Not that she was blaming him; she'd been doing a grand job getting herself into trouble without his help, that was all. She looked up at them and examined each face, musing that she didn't know which was which, but there were little differences in the way they held themselves. There one minute then gone the next. She blinked, dizzy once she realized hadn't a clue who she was talking to and it could very well be either of them.

"As of two minutes ago I no longer work for ye." She said matter-of-factly, clearing her throat when the words didn't come out as flippantly as she'd hoped. As one they arched their right eyebrows.

"Says who?" The asked in unison. Kiyoko stared. Did they practice that or something?

"Says your head chef. The one with the stick up her ass." She motioned towards Callaghan, now busily shouting orders at a cowering young waitress through pursed lips. They regarded the woman with undisguised boredom. "So excuse me. I don't particularly want to be thrown out on top of everything else tonight."

One of them just smiled a small dangerous smile and moved to take her elbow.

"Kaoru, since when could servants decide whether our guests stayed or not?"

"Gue- " Kiyoko's other elbow was taken before she even got her bearings.

"I don't recall giving anyone that kind of authority Hikaru. I'm sure they didn't mean it Kiyoko."

"And in the meantime-"

"...Eat with us."

She shrugged them both off her arms. "You are all kinds of weird. Lemme go!" She picked up her bag from where it had fallen. "If I don't have a job then I don't have time to be wastin' with ye. You're very nice and I'm much obliged and all that crap, but I need to go."

"Where?" One of them deadpanned. "We're on a boat."

"Yacht." The other corrected. "And I have to agree with my brother. Kyoya took the speedboat. How're you planning to get off?" He raised a brow.

Kiyoko swore under her breath. The trouble she'd be in over this wasn't even worth thinking about. That chef had had it in for her from day one, bakers weren't considered _real _chefs. The fact she worked primarily in chocolate did nothing to help her case. Three years of Culinary School and her degree still meant absolutely nothing- at least to people like that woman who didn't have a single collective bone in their bodies. "There have to be some lifeboats somewhere..." She murmured under her breath. The two boys exchanged a look loaded with meaning.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The one on the left teased. She looked at him sharply.

"And why the hell not?" She asked, frustrated and rightly so. She didn't think she'd ever met anybody so infuriating.

"It'll set off the alarm." They said together. It was no less disorienting as the first time they'd done it. From the shit-eating grins on their faces they knew exactly what she was thinking, and were doing it deliberately. Bastards.

"So what do I do? If I stay here I'm going to have my ass thrown overboard within the next... oh shit." she moaned under her breath as she watched one of the security guards move towards her. A sour faced woman gleefully pointing the tall man in her direction.

"Is this woman bothering you young masters?" The brawny man asked in a surprisingly cultured voice, holding his hand clenched threateningly as he towered over her. Kiyoko swallowed her fear and tried desperately not to embarass herself in the present company.

"Not at all. In fact we were just saying how wonderful it would be if she joined us for dinner." The one on the right draped himself over her shoulders and rested his chin on her head.

"If you're sure." The man said uncertainly, glancing first from one boy to other.

"Quite." They said in perfect unison. Kiyoko grinned, wide and fake when his eyes rested on her. He didn't react, merely left their small group. The twins watched him go, suddenly sober.

"Come, eat something."

"The food is wonderful- we promise." They directed her to a seat at the table, evicted the girl who'd previously been occupying it by means of literally picking up the poor girl, and forced her to sit. Then proceeded to load her plate with as much food as they could reach. Kiyoko stared at the laden table, old memories being brought to the surface of her mind which hadn't troubled her in years. She sighed and looked at the two expectant faces regarding her, taking a bite out of a sandwich to satisfy them. They grinned and one snagged a full glass of what seemed to be wine from the person beside him and placed it before her.

The girl he'd 'relieved' of her wine stared incredulously at him, but otherwise did nothing. Kiyoko noted that the pretty dress she wore, while far from being fit for the trash, was badly stained with red wine. How unfortunate, the girl was actually rather pretty. Her eyes were a bit... odd. Not often you see one of the social elite with such an obvious physical deformity. Ignoring the cold look she was receiving, Kiyoko simply admitted defeat and attacked her food like someone who hadn't had a good meal for the last two months. Which she hadn't. The girl simply pushed her chair back and walked away. Disgusted.

Kaoru and Hikaru watched her shovel it down with awe and amusement and respect, hiding their grins behind their hands as she drew everyone's attention and was still utterly oblivious to it all. At least she wasn't by herself- Haruhi had said they needed to stick together and make sure that she wasn't suicidal or whatever. The whole incident clung to everyones minds like cold sweat to a pigs back. Tamaki was dealing with it in the worst way possible, not capable of saying or doing anything except shedding silent tears into Haruhi's shoulder. Only Mori and Honey were keeping the whole party going, they hadn't seen as much as everyone else. They were actually funtional.

With that said, so was the girl swallowing the contents of her plate whole. Kiyoko at least seemed... better. Brighter. Hikaru looked at his brother and Kaoru nodded once. Perhaps it wasn't the greatest time to find a new toy, but you had to find happiness where you could right?

* * *

_Somwhere In Ouran Academy..._

Sometimes Nekozawa really hated Belzeneff. He'd woken him up at dawn, just as he'd fallen asleep, and insisted he be taken walking around the school. Not generally one to deny the little black puppet anything- primarily because there was that pesky business with bad luck and witchcraft and such- he had abandoned his much needed rest in favour of traipsing the school in search of the little puppet's 'white'. That was it. That was all Belzeneff would tell him. He needed to find his 'white'.

"How am I supposed to work with that?" He groused, annoyed because really there was far too much light about the school at dawn. "What the heck is a 'white'? If you mean 'light' then I swear I'll stuff you and give you to Kimiri you stupid puppet."

Great now Belzeneff was upset. Good one Umehito.

"I'm sorry- it's just that daytime on a sunday morning is meant for sleeping, not running around the school. All I'm saying is- what's that?"

He stopped in the shadows he'd been following, dark cloak swishing about his body and creating a draught around him. Belzeneff was looking for something, he didn't know what yet, and he knew his nurse would be very, very annoyed with him once he got back home, but how could he help it if Belzeneff needed something? The puppet was virtually his only friend, he'd never disappointed him. He owed Belzeneff. The drawn on features seemed to frown into empty air. Curious, Umehito stared.

"Belzeneff... there's nothing there. Can we just go home now?"

The puppet refused to leave, and Umehito really did not want to deal with a hissy fit right now. Not when Kimiri had demanded she be shown how to create portals today. She'd make a great asset to the Black Magic club he thought proudly. She was following in his footsteps quite nicely. Not that that meant she was any less high maintenance than ever, she was still his little sister. He didn't anticipate being allowed to rest until she'd fully mastered the spell. He was wearing his yellow pyjamas under the cloak and rubbing the dark circles beneath his eyes. Daytime was for sleeping dammit.

"What?" He looked at the puppet then peered at the spot Belzeneff seemed to be so fixated on. For a moment his eyes caught the image of a shapely woman standing in the light, her elegant, beautiful features twisted in a worried frown. The image disintegrated, like a wind had blown her away. But he saw her again in the next moment, standing by the foot of the stairs and motioning him to go forward. He looked at Belzeneff, mouth pulled into a frown.

"Belzeneff, what's going on? Who is she?" The puppet stayed silent. Umehito glanced at the puppet then at the intangible woman. Ghosts didn't faze him anymore. They were everywhere. But this one seemed to want him to... follow her?

"Is _this_ your 'white' Belzeneff?" If puppets could roll their eyes, his would be halfway to heaven. He pouted, it had been a fair question. "Sor-ee." Umehito muttered, and, keeping meticulously to the silence of the shadows, followed the stately woman up the long flight of stairs.

* * *

_Meanwhile, outside the Academy..._

"Sorry sir but I can't let you in without a security pass." The lazy security girl insolently snapped her gum. Kyoya was fuming; he was mere seconds away from simply walking in. Only for that he needed the damn key and she wasn't fucking letting him through.

"I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation." He said coolly. "If I do not get in the school within the next twenty seconds then aside from you losing your job you will also be an accessory to murder." The girl rolled her eyes. Kyoya had the sudden, uncontrollable urge to do violent things to her face.

"Whatever sir. I've heard all the excuses and they don't work. You're not getting in here without ID."

"I'm Kyoya Ootori. What more identification do you need?" He bit the words out poisonously, wishing his morals would allow him to hit girls. Annoying, frustrating, utterly stupid girls. She played with her ponytail and returned her attention to the magazine in her lap, chewing her gum noisily. She shrugged.

"Dunno if I believe you 'Ootori-san'." She said mockingly. "Do you think I'm an idiot? I've been doing this job for the last two years and I do it well. What would Ootori need in school on a Sunday that couldn't wait? I don't think it fits." She puffed up her chest, feeling safe and powerful behind the Perspex screen which separated them.

Kyoya stared at the infuriating creature before him, grinding his molars in a desperate bid for control.

"So am I to understand that you won't let me through?" He asked calmly. Anybody with half a brain would have realized that the quiet steel in his voice was far more dangerous than his previous ire. Anybody with half a brain would be running for cover. Anybody with half a brain would be trying to get as far away from him as fast as possible.

The silly girl smiled triumphantly. "Ah-huh. Goodbye sir."

Kyoya curled his lip in disgust and didn't bother returning a farewell. He simply went back to the black Toyota Corolla and considered his reflection. Did he really love this car? The driver looked at him expectantly, not wanting to admit it, but being utterly terrified of the speculative, calculating look on the young boys face. He'd long since learned to hate that look.

"Kindly step out of the car." Kyoya didn't look at the man, watching him smoothly hand over the keys and stepping behind the wheel himself.

Now how did one drive these things? It couldn't be that hard . You just had to find which gear made you...accelerate. He grinned darkly, stuck the key in ignition, got it in gear, and reversed slowly away from the school, stopping a fair distance, and leaving his confused driver to wonder what had gotten into his normally rational charge. Kyoya narrowed his eyes at the large gilded gate that stood between him and Melinda And decided that it had to go. Prefferrably now. And since he only really had one chance at it, he had to do this well.

He slammed his foot on the accelerator and drove at high speed. Twenty... thirty... eighty... a hundred miles an hour. The impact with the gate jarred his body, but he thought nothing, ignoring the terrified shrieks of his audience and proceeding to turn the previously majestic gate into nothing but scrap metal. And damage his car in the process, but those were irrelevant details. He tensed his jaw as the force of flattening the damn thing sent the car spiralling into the courtyard and crashing into the fountain, castrating and beheading one of the unfortunate cherubs.

When he deemed it safe to get out of the car he calmly exited and slammed the door closed, not overly concerned when the abused car part gave up the fight and clattered to the ground in defeat. His perfectly polished shoes had a thin coat of dust covering them, his tie had been discarded long ago, his hair was in disarray and his shirt clung to his body, sweat clinging to him and trickling down the bridge of his nose. He ignored it all, utterly focused on his goal.

He ran into the school, tossing the keys back over his shoulder into the water fountain.

* * *

_In Ootori's office halfway across the city..._

Shadows danced in the dimly lit office crowning Ootori Enterprises in Tokyo city. Three figures occupied the room, two of which were doing nothing more than watch as the third, a girl barely out of her teens tap expertly on the keyboard in front of her. A jungle of wires and extension cords surrounded her, as did three large screens which she glanced at every so often, reading something that they couldn't decipher. Mr. Ootori stared at the main computer screen grimly. It was the largest of the three and she seemed to be paying more attention to it than the others. Not that the seemingly random numbers and symbols flashing across the screen actually made sense to him, but he owed to Richard to at least show some semblence of competency. He vaguely remembered the young girl in front of him- after all, he'd hired her straight out of school once word reached him of her somewhat terrifying genius. A natural talent at anything she put her hand to academically, it wasn't long before she caught the attention of the right people, who in turn had told him he was a fool if he didn't take advantage of the situation, and he'd wasted no time flying her to Japan from whatever podunk American town she'd been living in. She hadn't brought any family.

"Give me some room." She adressed both men through gritted teeth. "I can't work if you both insist on breathing over me like that." Both men unaccustomed to being given orders stepped back nonetheless and gave her the required space. Ootori looked at the girl, mild interest shadowing his concern meomentarily.

Of course aside from this one girl- her name escaped him- he had several other highly trained computer experts who would've probably done the job for less than she was charging him- but none who happened to work as late as she did, or who had the same level of effortless competency. It was already... shameful, that he'd lost his best friend's child. Utterly humiliating, and terrifying. HIs hand shook as he wiped his forehead. God knows what Richard must think of him. And after he'd promised he'd take care of the child, and she'd been _entrusted_ to him. He was very aware of the other man's deceptively still presence beside him. He wasn't calm. Richard was seething, and had been since he'd run halfway across the city to get to the office building. And after informing Ootori that he was a bastard for never making use of state prison visiting hours, he'd demanded to hear the story in full.

He hadn't said a word since.

The girl sucked on a lollypop noisily, her fingers gliding over the keys with little thought while for the first she thought that perhaps living and working in Japan had its perks from time to time. Particularly when something like this literally fell into her lap, and she was presented with her first real challenge since she'd come to this over-populated, teeming, noise-polluted city. With that said, anywhere was better than Ohio. And she had such delicious eye-candy too. She scanned Mr. Redmond's slender figure out of the corner of her eye, then mentally slapped herself.

The man's wife had just died and his daughter was in the hands of a madman. Given the current situation, lusting after him was hardly appropriate. With a last dismissive glance she typed in the last few numbers of the encryption code she'd spent the past half hour trying to crack. She smiled grimly, if it were any other circumstance she'd be doing a victory dance. She'd knocked about ten minutes off her personal best. Joy. Ootori came to stand behind her and stared at the map of intersecting lines and figures that had just appeared on the screen, dotted with three scattered spots of luminous light. Richard stood beside him, staring at the red blinking lights as well. She sighed, leaned back in the swivel chair and resigned herself to the fact that thas was as good as it would get for the next two years.

"And what is this?" He asked flatly. The disinterested girl pointed at the screen, apathetic either way.

"These are the chips you had installed in your sons' teeth." She picked up a small metal square on the desk between her thumb and forefinger and held it out to him. "They look like this and are undetectable by any metal detector. Each one has its own unique signal that your previous computer technician synchronized with your database. It will enable you to locate your sons wherever they may be. That is Kyoya." She pointed to a red triangle. "The circle is Akihiko, and the rectangle is Jirou."

"That can't be right. The equipment must be faulty." Ootori frowned at the computer. The girl pursed plump lips and glared at him, face immediately shutting down.

"My equipment is not faulty sir." She said coldly. "I look after every computer you've allowed your employess access to. It is not the computers at fault."

He raised a brow at her attitude but found he admired it somewhat and so did not challenge it. "Why are the rectangle and triangle so close? Jirou is in Belgium, managing stocks. He left early on friday morning."

"Not according to this." The dark skinned girl tossed her braids over her shoulder. "I can bring up exact co-ordinates, though it won't be quick or easy." She warned. "Someone has made sure this programme is virtually... impenetrable. Your entire system is a mess. I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did without having a major problem. Any idiot who knows anything about hacking could get into this- no problem." She resisted the urge to add that if he had simply made her senior advisor before now they wouldn't be in this mess, but thought it better to curb her tongue. If he couldn't figure it out on his own then she would simply make use of one of the Ivy League scholarships she'd been offered and take her skills elsewhere.

With that said she didn't believe he was a srupid man.

"That's impossible." Ootori frowned. "The only person who had access to the mainframes and databases was the last technician we had, and she went on leave two weeks ago." The girl raised an eyebrow, swivelled in her chair and looked at him. She stood corrected.

"And?" She challenged. "Are you honestly saying its not possible for someone motivated enough to gain a position where they have access to your accounts, and siphon money now and then? Really? You're immune to fraud?"

"Mind your tone." Ootori looked sharply at the girl. She only rolled her eyes and went back to the computer. Richard spoke up for the first time since he'd heard the whole story and watched a short mobile clip of Melinda being tossed around sent to his I-phone via a hyperventilating Tamaki, who still hadn't figured out a way to turn the camera off and had been subjected to the terrible scene for close to three consecutive hours. Unable to look away. He'd been immediately ordered to get to a hospital. Just in case.

"She might have a point. I mean... what better way to get at you right? Especially if her goal had been fraud."

"But Richard, honestly, her?" He stared at the women in th epicture. Frustrated and stressed. "She doesn't look like she's capable of squashing a bug, let alone possessing the ability to turn my whole business upside down."

The girl snorted but din't say anything. Keeping her eyes on the computer, the click of the keyboard was loud in Ootori's dark office.

Richard picked up the employee identification card which had been left on the desk and eyed the cross-eyed twenty-three year old woman. "You place far to much emphasis on appearances." He said finally. "It's usually those who seem helpless who are far more capable of doing the most damage. And if I know your oldest son... it is not entirely improbable that he and this woman may have been involved."

"'Involved'?" The girl laughed. "That's another way to say 'screwing like rabbits' if I ever heard one."

"You know something about this?" Ootori waved vaguely in the direction of the badly taken picture and ID details on the card. She stared.

"You really know nothing about your sons do you?" She said, as if figuring out a puzzle of some sort. She shook her head. "Whatever. Anybody with ears knows about them. It's kind of hard to run away from it if they're shagging every single damn minute of the day." She sipped her coffee. "Chiharu wasn't particularly friendly either when it came right down to it. Kept saying how she'd be his wife one day and then she'd 'own the company'."

"They were planning to get married?" Ootori asked, incredulous.

She sighed, frustrated. "No. Listen to what I say, not what you think I do. _She_ kept saying they'd get married. Utterly delusional of course. From the looks of it now he was only sleeping with her so she'd disable the tracking devices- which by the way, are just strange. Who tracks their children?"

"Busy people." Richard's mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. "Am I to assume that you know what you're doing miss..."

"My name's Alma. Just Alma." Her shoulders stiffened. "And regardless of my age, this is my job and I am very good at it sir. I've been working here for two years. You're the one paying for my services- hourly, by the way- so would ...you please... oh shit."

"What?" Ootori asked.

She just pointed to the screen. "I figured out how to intercept that piece-of-crap camera's signal."

For a long time nobody spoke. Then suddenly Richard bent over the paper bin and proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach violently into it. Ootori's eyes traced his oldest son's features in dismay, standing perfectly still. Who was that? Certainly not the young boy who'd followed him around as a child asking if his daddy would bring him to work with him. This wasn't a boy. Or even a man. But some kind of terrible hybrid between a human being and an animal hiding behind a silk shirt and driving clenched fists powerfully into a young girl's stomach. Jirou flung Melinda to the side and her head landed somewhere close to the camera, giving a zoomed-in shot of the blood she was spitting that stained her teeth.

"Um... sir?" Alma asked. Numb, because she couldn't tear her eyes away long enough to join Richard over the bin, yet could not possibly watch it for too long because, quite frankly, it was much worse than any horror movie ever filmed. She turned large watery eyes on Ootori and swallowed around the sudden thickness in her throat, not quite sure what to do in this situation. He looked at the girl, looked back at the screen, and turned away from it pointedly.

"Keep doing what you're doing. I need to call someone."

Richard wiped his mouth and stood on shaky legs, tears running down his face, fists clenched. "Who are you calling?"

Ootori stared at his wooden desk blankly. His son... his own son...The ground seemed to have been swept out from under his feet. "Everyone." He said simply.

* * *

_In the third music room..._

He'd stopped and was breathing heavily above me, just staring into my face. Hot flashes of pain pierced my body randomly. I couldn't say anything hurt more or less than anything else. I was a huge bruise. I didn't move or breathe or make any other indication that I may be alive, choosing instead to pretend to be dead as suddenly I realized in a blinding flash of clarity that I wanted to live. I really did, and I knew that no matter what happened... I was trapped. I couldn't leave- my burning legs were a testament to that. But even without them, I discovered the hard way that he had a knife. I'd struggled harder when I saw it but he'd growled at me to keep still.

Needless to say I didn't comply and he'd grown... frustrated with me. I clenched my eyes closed, tears escaping. Twin gashes decorated the soles of my feet. Deep and still bleeding. The tiled floor was cool against my cheek, both legs simply existed. If I actually made it out alive...I... well, I didn't think I'd be going to any more balls. I made absolutely no effort to move them because the pain, I knew, would be utterly excruciating. I shuddered again when I thought of the look in his eye when he'd done it. He enjoyed it, dammit. He'd smiled while I screamed with the pain and whispered endearments, caressing the bloody wounds like a lover. I couldn't run away if I couldn't walk, could I?

"It's so regrettable that you chose to be difficult Melinda... may I call you Melinda?"

"No." I said faintly. I'd get out of here, I had to. I couldn't die here, no matter what it looked like now.

I refused to die.

He laughed, blowing his breath into my face. I wish I could say his breath smelled bad, but honestly it didn't. He obviously took care of his own hygiene. It made me hate him even more, somehow, that he couldn't even have the decency to be physically repulsive. Not that I needed any kind of physical reminder that he was a sick, repugnant man.

"You've still got fire. I like that." He said, amused.

"Go fuck yourself." I closed my eyes against the pain. He stared at my face speculatively, caressing my cheek with the bloody pocket-blade he'd used on me.

"You know, you keep saying that." He said softly, brushing strands of hair that had stuck to my face with the tip of the knife. He caressed me with the blade, dragging the sharp blade across my bruised skin, just to accentuate who really held the power. "But why content myself with my right hand when I have such a pretty little girl here with me. Seems rather counter-productive. Don't you think?"

My heart stopped and I shuddered, terror gripping me like a vice. "What?" The word came out as a stunned whisper. He just grinned and ran the blade down the side of my neck. The cold metal brushed my hurting, heated skin, travelling from my collar bone in a deliberate path. I didn't let myself believe it. Not until the knife was resting on the swell of my left breast and touching me through the thin material of my shirt. Dark eyes stared at me, hooded with lust.

"Well Melinda? What are you going to do about it?" He laughed at my helpless state. It hurt so bad I could barely breathe, I didn't have a chance of fighting him off. Not a chance in hell. Death was one thing, but...but... Desperately I tried to fight him off. Struggle, unseat him, make him stop touching me. I wasn't strong enough, and he just laughed. Tears ran down both cheeks, stinging when they touched open wounds. "What _can_ you do about it darling? Where's that delicious fire you had a moment ago?"

I trembled uncontrollably, wrenching sounds from my throat. Trying to shout for somebody- anybody- to get me out. To take me home. To take me away form this demon this...

'Mom', I thought desperately. Screaming for anyone to save me. 'Oh mom, come back. Please. _Please _come back.' He watched my face, licking his lips to wet them. I tried to recoil from his touch but the blade only dug deeper into my skin. He chuckled darkly, looming over me on all fours and reaching down to toy with the draw-string on my track-suit bottoms.

"Go ahead darling." He whispered. "Scream. Scream for me."


	15. Chapter 15

**It's been a while hasn't it? I've worked on this to death. I can't make it sound any less cheesy- I apologise- and I sincerely hope it's satisfies all those people who wanted Jirou's ass thoroughly whooped. I've never done a fight scene before so I hope this is passable. Anyway, as an explanation for all the magicky bits in the middle, I just wanted to play with Nekozawa ^^**

**This is the second last chapter, thought I should give a heads up. And I've taken note of all votes cast. I may do more Ouran fic, but they won't be sequels, I promise to let you know when I finally post one. And now, I shall stop talking and just let you read the damn thing.**

**Disclaimer: Yes. I wrote a massively famous manga which got turned into an anime, made billions, and now I'm writing fanfiction about it. Of course. Because that's exactly how I'd spend my time *rolls eyes***

**~Mari**

* * *

The ghostly woman stopped in front of the music room, pointing and staring at Nekozawa with large beseeching eyes. His face faulted and his eye twitched.

"T-the Host Club?" He coughed, face rapidly becoming hot. "Um, I'm not...um, yeah...not that there's anything wrong with being... but I'm not. Yeah. Anyway, nobody is in there on a weekend." He stared at his feet, trying to hide his flush. The woman looked annoyed, mouth set into a grim line, 'beseeching' eyes gone. She stomped her foot in frustration and pointed towards the door. Too scared to disobey he nodded and moved towards the door, trying the cool handle, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it locked.

"See." He jiggled it to be sure she could see. "We can't get in. Now I think it's time for us to go home Bel- Belzeneff!" He exclaimed in annoyance, because what had the puppet gone and done? He'd opened a portal by himself, using Nekozawa's power. He tamped down a shudder, the irritating itch of drained power amplified in his early-morning exhaustion. He didn't even have time to reprimand the puppet the way he wanted to before the puppet propelled him into the portal by means of an invisible gust of wind, leaving him with that indefinable itch again. Before the gate closed behind him he saw the woman's face, a look of smug satisfaction fleetingly marring her features. Nekozawa scowled as he found himself in the darkness of one of his own portals.

"God Belzeneff. What's wrong with you? You know better than to do that to me you dumb sackcloth. I could collapse!" But Belzeneff ignored him, staring at something in the shadowy gray corner of the darkness they were enclosed in. Nekozawa glanced at the room Belzeneff had created a window to. The scowl never left his features. "What is with your obsession with this room? Do you have a crush on Suoh or something? Because I promise you, if Kimiri can't get me to become a host then you don't stand an ice-cube's chance in hell."

It was the clang of metal against tiles which drew his eyes up. Was someone in there? On a weekend?

"What?" He inched towards the soft gray half light. He saw into the room through a 'window', round and rippling, like a pond. He knew from experience that they couldn't see or hear him, no matter how much noise he made. He tugged on the sleeve of his robe, feeling uneasy all of a sudden. At first glance, all seemed normal. Nothing out of place, the vase in the corner by the window, the piano untouched, the French doors open to allow the breeze to air the room. And then, inexorably his eyes were drawn to the floor, where he saw the first streak of blood. It was almost obscene against the white tiled floors. But then he saw another, and another, and they grew from streaks into puddles and pools. He swallowed, unsure what to make of it and suddenly wondering whether it was a wise decision to stay. Surely if he did, he'd eventually see something he didn't want to.

His eyes darted around the dark chamber he was in, but he couldn't make himself open a door to his home. He couldn't make himself leave, not even if he wanted to. Belzeneff, the stupid rag doll, had locked his limbs while he'd been staring into the room. He realized this with shock when he tried to take a step and almost took out his back, the whiplash jarring his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on not killing Belzeneff.

"Let me go! I don't know what game you're playing Bel, but I don't find this funny. If we go home right now that I can pretend this never happened and go back home and spend the rest of my day sleeping and teaching Kimiri how to do magic without going insane. Now let's go."

Belzeneff didn't respond either way, not that he'd thought he would. He was the most stubborn 'potential dishcloth' Nekozawa had ever met. Not that he'd actually have left. The image of the bloodstained floor would have haunted him forever. And...and he thought he heard voices in there. Begrudgingly he lifted his eyes back to the window. His eyes deliberately avoided the floor. But in doing so went straight to the two figures on the floor at the other end of the room. He flushed red in embarrassment. A couple?

"Belzeneff, I admire your vigilance. I really do. But I don't think Ouran needs to be protected from two horny teenagers." His face was hot and he didn't particularly wish to continue watching, but Belzeneff was being persistent. Telling him to keep watching.

"I am looking!" He protested. "But what the hell? I know you don't think I get out enough but this is not the way to start. I'm not exactly an expert on socializing but I'm quite sure normal people don't tend to indulge their voyeuristic tendencies to start off with if they don't want to get taken to court over it. Not that I have any..." He mumbled under his breath. He couldn't resist bashfully taking another glimpse, frowning when he realized that the scene wasn't quite right.

Guy. Check. Girl. Check. Passionate removal of clothing and subsequent sounds of arousal. Check. So where, exactly did blood fit into the whole equation? Belzeneff looked at him pointedly, as if reading his mind. He bit his lip, frowning as he studied the couple.

"Foreplay?" He tried, not believing it himself. He supposed he deserved Belzeneff's snort of disbelief. 'White', the puppet reminded him, urgently. Nekozawa almost didn't hear, allowing the window to open wider, and suddenly it was like he was there, physically in the room. He'd done this several times before of course, being invisible was one of his favorite past-times. Especially in a school when most people believed he was a crackpot. It was satisfying to know that whilst they called him a freak behind his back, he could write forty page essays extensively detailing their nose-picking habits. There had been times he'd wished it wasn't quite so realistic though. This was one of them.

Immediately his olfactory senses were assaulted by a mix of smells. Tangy iron- which he recognized as blood- sweat, expensive cologne, and a musky heavy smell which permeated the whole room and dominated everything else. He recognized it immediately. God- he was a teenaged boy, of course he recognized that smell. He'd spent enough hours agonizing over how exactly to discreetly change his blankets without alerting his servants. Although there was always the issue that he hadn't a clue how to wash blankets. And it wasn't a smell that was out of place in this setting.

"Oh my God." He said in quiet horror.

Except he was beginning to suspect that the whimpers the girl was making were of pain rather than pleasure. And the way he was touching her wasn't the smooth reverent caress of a lover, but rather the rough, hungry touch of someone used to getting what he wants. Whether permission was granted or not. He bit his lip when he saw her face. Lacerations decorated it, deep and shallow and still bleeding in some places. A dark bruise was beginning to form on her left cheek, deep and purple and harsh against her skin. The man- and he was a man- was restraining her hands above her head, leaving her utterly vulnerable to him. A knife gleamed silver on the floor beside them, abandoned, because what else could he do to ensure her compliance. He winced when he saw her feet. She obviously wasn't going anywhere.

What he could see of the rest of her body was covered with blood. Skin and hair clung to the rest, obscuring it from view. He gasped aloud, and went to turn back. But her eyes happened to catch his, purely by chance. He knew she wasn't seeing him. She couldn't- it was impossible. But her eyes, dead and lifeless though they were seemed to lock on his, a tear spilling silently. Her mouth formed a wordless plea. He saw the shape of the word she was trying to form. 'Kyoya'.

Ootori. He looked back down at the man, realization crashing on him like a truck. No not Kyoya. But one of his brothers. Definitely an Ootori. The hair was distinctive. He forced himself out of the 'half-there' ethereal state he was in, slamming back into his body forcefully and stumbling when he realized Belzeneff had released his mental hold on his limbs. He sat on the floor in the safe darkness of his portal, hugging his knees to himself and rocking back and forth. He didn't know what to do. What did the greater population do in situations such as this?

"Belzeneff?" He asked, voice cracking. "We can't just leave her there." He hiccoughed, and couldn't stop the tears flowing down his face, allowing them to turn into sobs of their own accord. Belzeneff was silent for a long time, then hesitantly tried to comfort his master, sending him as many mental images as he could. Good ones, ones that formed an idea. An idea that- if he were quick enough- may save her.

"Kyoya's here?" Nekozawa rubbed his face with his sleeve and stood slowly. He just wanted to go to bed and pretend none of this was happening. "Let's go Belzeneff, he might be able to tell us what to do." He decided firmly, the thought of having someone in control of the situation- other than him- a great deal more comforting than watching a girl get raped and sobbing on the floor about it instead of doing something about it. And Kyoya was Kyoya. He would know what to do. He always did.

Melinda screamed, once. That's when he ran. Nekozawa ripped a door open and stumbled to the tall dark figure tearing its way through the school, miraculously ending up right in front of the other boy. Kyoya regarded the boy who'd crashed into him out of nowhere, decided he wasn't important, and would have kept running... if he hadn't found himself suddenly unable to move. He struggled, jerking and trying to move his feet. Which seemed to be glued to the floor.

"What the hell?" He exclaimed angrily. Nekozawa swallowed as the other boy turned his face to him. 'Enraged' seemed to be the only word that fit. And even then it seemed a little tame.

"Gomen, Ootori-san." He said, honestly apologetic. "But I know where you're going, and I can get you there quicker. You cannot waste time." He said, picking himself up off the floor and wringing his wrists. He'd fallen awkwardly on them. Belzeneff opened the gate again, much to his annoyance, and that same gust of ethereal wind pushed them into it. Nekozawa glared darkly at the puppet.

"When this is all over I swear I'll turn you into a fucking dishcloth." Kyoya looked at him. Teeth gritted.

"Excuse me?" He asked, deceptively calm. Nekozawa blinked at him, realized what he'd said and flushed. Oh, shit.

"Not you Ootori-san. Belzeneff."

"Right." Kyoya said through gritted teeth. "The puppet. Of course."

Nekozawa looked down, humiliated, and tried to feel too stung by the comment. You had to make certain allowances for a person when their significant other was in the process of being violated by their own brother. Or so he assumed, not that he had much experience in this field. Or with people in general.

"Ootori-san," He said quietly. "I'm not the one you're angry with. Save it for your brother."

Dark eyes flashed at him. The other boy visibly got himself under control. "You are correct. My apologies. But get me there now, or so help me when you get me out of whatever witchcraft you've put me under, I will kill you."

Nekozawa recognized a promise when he saw one and released the other boy against Belzeneff's wishes. The puppet owed him. He owed him big.

Later, Kyoya wasn't sure whether he'd been in that strange in-between place for a minute or an hour. It didn't help that Nekozawa was just as anti-social as ever and seemed to prefer threatening his puppet rather than actually informing him of what was happening or telling him how exactly he'd gotten roped into a madman's...closet? He grunted testing his invisible bonds again. They held. Well fuck, maybe Nekozawa wasn't a complete nut job. He couldn't completely convince himself that this wasn't a trap. Although considering he was currently bound there was little he could do about the situation.

"Where is she?" He asked. His voice was rough. His voice was tightly controlled and for all intents and purposes Nekozawa could have assumed he was merely inquiring after the homework or some other such banal topic. Except he didn't believe that any single person could be going through so much and still be... unruffled. But far be it from him to rob Kyoya of his defences. Nekozawa knew as well as anyone else that at times you simply needed something to protect you from the rest of the world. Be it a dark robe or stony nonchalance.

"In the music room. The one you use for the club." Nekozawa said quietly. "At least that's the last I saw of them."

Kyoya closed his eyes. "Well there goes a perfectly good room." He said.

Nekozawa bit his lip. He'd never been so damn out of his depth. It wasn't an experience he particularly enjoyed. He was relieved beyond belief when he saw the familiar mirror-like window open in front of them. He closed his eyes and imagined it was a door.

"We're here." He said simply. Kyoya tested his invisible bonds, and found he could stand up. He straightened himself and looked at the boy sitting on the floor. He honestly did not know what to make of that. Magic? It was impossible. Utterly... it was probably just a high stress situation. Nekozawa must've slipped him something or injected something surreptitiously.

It still didn't explain everything, but what was the other option? Nekozawa was a wizard or something? Right. Sure.

"Thank you." He told the robed figure sincerely. "Wait for the police. I called them an hour ago, they'll be here soon. And if anything happens in that room, don't come in, wait for help. Okay?"

Nekozawa nodded numbly, staring at Kyoya with wide eyes. The other boy turned to leave. "Be careful." He said suddenly. Kyoya looked back in the millisecond before he stepped over the threshold of the portal door and nodded. Nekozawa watched him enter the room, unarmed and shuddered, wishing he was braver.

Belzeneff stared after the Ootori boy and, satisfied, demanded to be allowed to sleep.

Nekozawa ignored the puppet, staring at the closed door. Sensitive ears picked up the distant sound of sirens, loudspeakers, and... helicopter propellors outside the school and he swore.

They couldn't have come five minutes earlier?

* * *

The room was in disarray, it was the first thing Kyoya noticed. Partially because he spent an inordinate amount of time ensuring the room was impeccable and well kept. Three different teams of maids came to clean every week and decorate for each Club session. But that could be overlooked. He probably wouldn't have noticed, except there was a broken vase on the floor. Much like the one Haruhi had broken all those months ago. And it was stained with blood.

In fact there were blood stains everywhere. His heart leapt erratically- he didn't think it would ever quieten- as his eyes swept the room. He called himself all kinds of fool and wished he'd never let her out of his sight for even a minute. God, how he hoped the blood wasn't hers. He almost stopped breathing when he finally saw her, an inexplicable rage building within him which could not simply be explained away as righteous concern.

It was almost a physical pain. Unforgiving and sharp, coursing through his entire body. It stole his breath and left him floundering for air. Because the girl lying almost dead on the floor was certainly not the same girl he'd had an argument with the night before. Not the same girl who'd taken glowing white hair and unfair criticism in stride. Nothing of that girl remained.

Fuck. He'd fallen in love with her hadn't he?

"Make one more move Jirou- just one- and I swear, brother or not, you won't leave this room." He said darkly in a voice even he did not recognize. He regarded the man in front of him and tried desperately not to strangle him. The other man was still too close to Melinda for him to do anything.

His eyes flicked to the knife lying beside Melinda and it became even harder to maintain any sense of decorum. He did not want to pretend to be a fucking statue. He wanted to disembowel the sonuvabitch who thought he could do this to him and get away with it. He wanted to make him feel pain like he'd never felt before- then maybe he'd know the way Kyoya felt. Maybe he'd have an inkling of how much fucking pain he was in.

Slowly, very slowly the man removed his lips from their attack of the girl's throat- Kyoya tightened his fists- and stared at his brother in mild surprise.

"Kyoya." He said, irritated. "I'm rather busy right now if you hadn't noticed." Melinda sobbed brokenly beneath him. He smiled cruelly and cooed at her to 'hush'. "So if you wouldn't mind..." He trailed of pointedly, looking at his brother from under dark bangs.

Something snapped within Kyoya. He walked towards them, muscles tense. "Get your fucking ass out of here. Now." He warned, voice low and foreboding.

Jirou snorted, amused. "Is that a threat or a promise, little brother?" He asked mockingly. Kyoya crouched beside his brother and grabbed him by the neck, watching in unholy satisfaction as the man's eyes crossed, surprised at the strength in his grip.

"Doesn't matter." Kyoya said plainly staring at his brothers blue face unaffectedly. He glanced down at Melinda and his resolve hardened. "I knew you were a perverse bastard Jirou, but I never thought you were capable of this."

Jirou reached up and grasped Kyoya's hands, clawed at them, twisting his wrists. Kyoya released his grip with a gasp of pain. Jirou's mouth twisted in a grimace as he lunged at him, tackling him and grasping tender skin roughly in a move reminiscent of the play- wrestling they did when they were children. Difference being, they were not children, and Kyoya had learned a few things since then.

He dodged the clumsy attack and, breathing hard, twisted his brother's hands behind his back, sending him forward with a loud cry and a vicious kick to his lower back, and feeling nothing but fury when the man turned back to look at him with murder in his eyes.

"I see, little brother learned how to fight. How adorable." Jirou wiped the blood in the corner of his mouth, picking himself off the floor. "You sure you don't want to reconsider Weed? She's just a girl. Is she really worth me spoiling that pretty little face?"

"Shut up Jirou." Kyoya growled. "Shut up or I swear, I will fucking murder you."

Jirou glared, gritting his teeth, and spat out blood onto the floor in disgust. He moved before Kyoya even had a chance to register the movement. "As you wish, little brother."

With a grunt, Jirou threw a punch at Kyoya's face which never connected, the younger boy was simply too fast for him to pin. He growled with frustration, pushing back sweaty bangs. Even on his back on the floor the Weed could roll and tuck away from the blows with an ease which infuriated him.

"Fight like a real man, not that martial arts shit." He cried out frustrated. Kyoya drove his elbow into Jirou's gut as hard as he could and rolled them, switching places as the aggressor. He ploughed his fist into Jirou's face relentlessly, every fibre of his body screaming for bloody vengeance. Jirous face grew steadily worse, bloodied and bruised, his brother's eyes rolled into the back of his head until Kyoya thought he would pass out. But he didn't care, he kept driving his fist into his face. He hurt Melinda.

He grunted heavily, breathing become gradually more laborious. But he didn't stop. He wouldn't stop if the National guard were fucking taping him. It wouldn't make a difference. This... this thing deserved to die. He was scum. Nothing but the dirt underneath his fingernails. The stain on the carpet that never came out. Not until you called in the carpet cleaner to pound the carpet within an inch of its life and remove the stains and ugliness.

"What. You mean. Like this?" Kyoya grunted, breath coming in short gasps now. He resisted the urge to spit in the other boy's face. He was too damn grown for that. "You fucking coward."

Jirou bucked his hips, trying unsuccessfully to unseat the spitfire above him. He was on the verge of simply begging to be left alone. Kyoya's fist connected with his face in a particularly vicious punch which sent a burst of pain through his face as his nose cracked sickeningly. Kyoya took pleasure in the fact that that nose would never heal attractively. Not without a team of plastic surgeons.

If he could take anything from Jirou, it may as well be his vanity. The man clutched his face in pain and dazedly wondered when his little brother had learned how to fight. He didn't remember him being this good. The Weed he remembered was a gangly sap with asthma for fuck's sake.

Melinda groaned and Kyoya's head snapped up in concern. Jirou took advantage of the moment and drove his knee hard into Kyoya's gut, winding him. Kyoya groaned, seeing stars.

"You might have learned a few things," he snarled. "But you're still a fucking Weed. You're still the spare heir. You don't get to inherit anything little brother. It's all mine."

Uninterested in conversation, Kyoya let his actions speak for themselves. A glance at Melinda told him she'd been beaten half to death, and he couldn't afford to waste time when he needed to get her to a hospital. In two fluid motions he was on his feet and blocking his brother's awkward kick. Fucking coward. He couldn't fight to save his life, so he picked on girls and played with knives like he was so fucking hard.

He kicked the switch blade into the corner of the room- he didn't like the way Jirou was looking at it- and rammed his brother with his full weight. Frustrated and seeing that he was likely going to lose Jirou grabbed his brother by the neck, and squeezed hard. Kyoya sputtered, spitting blood and saliva into his brother's face.

"Kyoya, I'm so glad you came." He smiled, the blood on his teeth making the expression gruesome. Neither heard Melinda's whimpers anymore, or the soft sound of something being dragged across the floor. "I'll let you die with her. I promise. It'll be so romantic." He smirked. Then stilled as something very heavy and blunt connected with his head, and his rolled back. Jirou went down easily, head knocking the edge of a table and closing his eyes in unconsciousness.

And on legs that screamed of pain and fire, Melinda stood, tears of unimaginable pain rolling down her face as she held the fire extinguisher aloft. She swayed, and Kyoya rushed to catch her, settling her to the floor. He checked her over with growing dismay as he uncovered wound after bloody wound.

"Kyoya." She sobbed, almost screaming. "It hurts! Oh my God..."

He couldn't hold her the way he wanted to and it killed him. There could be injuries he couldn't see, or her ribs could be broken. Or, he swallowed, she could have internal bleeding. Dammit Kyoya- hold it together.

"Don't worry Melinda, we'll get you to a hospital. We'll get out of here." He said, tearing the bottom of his shirt off- he couldn't help remembering what the damn thing had cost, but honestly he didn't care- and wrapping it around his hand. Then he shifted her in his arms, wincing when she cried out again. "Melinda, I need you to do something for me." He released her hand.

"No!" Her eyes snapped open in panic. "Don't go Kyoya. Kyoya please don't leave. Don't leave me." He swallowed and took her hand again, swearing inwardly. He kissed the top of her head, couldn't help it.

"I'm going nowhere. If we leave, we leave together." He reassured her. She held on to him desperately, like he was her only life-line.

"I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry." She turned her head and cried into his shirt. "It was stupid- and you were right."

Ribs be damned. If he didn't hold her he was going to fucking implode.

Carefully, mindful of her tender skin he held her close, detecting the faint sent of lavender shampoo under all the blood. Melinda always smelled of lavender. The shower always stank of it every time she used it. It was annoying- but at least she was around to annoy him. She was okay. Thank God. Tears rolled down his face that he didn't know had been building. Roughly he turned his face away from her and rubbed his cheeks against her shoulders.

"I'm sorry too." He said. And that was it. That was all he would say about it. It was over, finished. She was where she belonged. And for as long as he lived he was making sure she never went anywhere else.

"Kyoya." She said his name under her breath like a prayer and he closed his eyes. The gravity of the situation came crashing back down on him however when the man slumped in the corner gave a low moan. Melinda went still in his arms. He didn't think she was breathing, though he could feel the beat of her heart hammering against his chest. "My legs hurt. So bad." Another sob was wrenched from her throat.

"Where?" He pushed her away, heart still hammering. It would be a miracle if he was ever able to let her out by herself ever again. "Show me Mel." He insisted. With one trembling hand she held onto his shoulder for support and indicated towards her legs. He almost threw up. It was hard to make out skin beneath the dark congealed mess of blood, but what he could see of her legs did not bode well at all. Particularly the left one which had taken on a greenish tinge.

"We need to go." He said with a growing sense of urgency. "Melinda, I have to carry you. It will hurt- but not for long, I promise."

"Okay," she said, obviously delirious. Mucus and blood and tears mingled in an unpretty mess over her face, getting all over his clothes. He really couldn't have cared less. Her eyes were red and bloodshot. "I'm gonna lose my nerve." He nodded, realized she couldn't see him and said 'okay' aloud. Then before he could change his mind he picked her up and hiked her on his back.

She screamed.

"I'm sorry." He said closing his eyes. His body wasn't letting him forget what he'd been doing a few moments before hand. But ignoring it with the air of one well- practiced in disregarding pain, he bit his lip, made sure he held Melinda securely, and ran out of the room.

Melinda held on to him with bloody fingers through the agony in her feet and chest unable to quieten her cries.

* * *

Chiharu threw her phone into the waves, tears blurring her vision. Jirou was never supposed to hurt Melinda like that. He was supposed to kill her get the company and be done. Not fucking rape her on national television. Her hands went around herself and she sobbed. Well what was she supposed to do now? She didn't want to, but how could she help the fact that she loved the bastard. She really did.

Not that she thought the feeling was ever reciprocated. She wasn't stupid. But she'd had him right under her thumb. If he even thought the word 'divorce' she'd have slapped him upside the head with so much blackmail material he'd be trying to get out of it for years. That fucking Redmond girl just had it all thrown at her feet. Chiharu had to work for it. She had to fucking kill for it- and she had. She was going to be the queen. It would've been hers. All of it.

No more snide comments about her eyes, or her lisp- which was gone now anyway. She was supposed to be on the fucking top. And the idiot had to go and get himself caught. It was on CNN dammit! How the hell was she supposed to get on with any kind of life with him? His career was over. Everyone had seen him practically raping the girl. You don't recover from something like that. That's the kind of shit that gets you in jail.

Chiharu smoothed the skirt of her ruined dress, eyes hardening when she remembered the way those damn boys had treated her. Arrogant prissy-ass boys. She refused to take that lying down. But those boys- the small blond one and his freaking six foot tall bodyguard –were watching her.

Carefully she stripped, right there on the deck, taking off the cumbersome dress. She set it down with her purse and keys. She was getting out of there before the police came to check the yacht.

But Melinda was a fucking idiot if she thought this was the end of it.

* * *

The room I was in was bright. Light streamed through windows and doors, and on every side of me there were people. Laughing and talking and offering me food and wine. Smiling in their pretty dresses and handsome suits. My own dress was pink and light and floating around my knees like an earth-bound cloud. I was spinning to imaginary music, twirling in a tall gentleman's arms and dancing with him. There was something niggling at the back of my mind. Something I was supposed to be doing.

But the man smiled, and I couldn't help but smile back. He was beautiful. Kyoya. His hair was falling everywhere and he leaned in to tell me something.

But no- he was changing. He was Kyoya- but not. Older and not smiling and dangerous... and now his hands were gripping my waist hard and touching... and Kyoya. Oh God, Kyoya.

"Kyoya." Did I say that out loud?

"It's okay Melinda." A cool hand slipped into mine. I gripped it because it was so different to the warm sweaty hands I felt ghosting my body. Touching me in places even I didn't linger too often. My eyes were heavy. "You're dreaming." The calm voice was saying. "Just wake up."

So I did, almost sobbing in relief when my crusty eyelids parted and I saw Kyoya's blurry form looking down over me. He was watching at me seriously, like a jeweller inspecting a diamond. It almost made me forget the pain. Not that I really could, my whole body was pain- though I couldn't really feel anything from the waist down- but I was strangely detatched from it. It was like my body wasn't even mine to begin with. My eyes focused on Kyoya. His lip was split. I reached out and touched it, feeling strangely lightheaded. I must've been doped on morphine or something, because honestly I couldn't feel anything.

"You're hurt."

"Me?" He said, sitting down on the bed next to me and staring at my face intently. "It's nothing."

I looked at the hand. Wrapped and padded so much I refused to believe it was 'nothing'. I raised a skeptical brow. " Just say it hurts." I tried to push myself on my arms, gasping when I realized very quickly that my body was in no way equipped to handle it and had contrived to inform me in the most painful way possible. Kyoya was at my side immediately, pushing me back gently but firmly and staring at me with eyes narrowed in concern. I met his eyes. He blinked, then looked down.

He shrugged still not quite meeting my eyes. "Be careful. Anyway, you seem to be doing much better than the last time I saw you." He searches me subtly, looking for any other signs of pain. I didn't miss the almost imperceptible wince in his eyes.

"I can't feel anything if that counts." My voice sounded rough, like I hadn't used it in days. I wrinkled my nose. It also smelled like I hadn't used a toothbrush in days. "But I'm okay."

He wouldn't look at me all of a sudden. "Are you sure?" He said cryptically. Confused I squeezed his hand and made him look at me.

"Absolutely sure. No matter what happens." I smiled. He's still not looking at me, and I feel something intangible sink within me. What exactly happened? I... could remember little bits, and what I did remember made my skin burn and itch. But I remembered what happened at the end. "I trust you Kyoya," I took my hand back, self-conscious. I had thought... back at the school...but I probably read him wrong. "You were amazing."I finally said, laughing at myself a little. "Like a knight in shining armour or something."

The corner of his lip twitched and fell. Saying nothing he pulled aside the bed-sheets slowly. Making me aware that the odd material I was swathed in was in fact a hospital gown. The countours of the thin material clung to the counters of my body, molding to my chest, and stomach and... leg. I blinked and ceased to remember how to breathe. Where my leg had once been was an empty space. A stump protruded where the limb used to be, stopping just short of my knee. I stared dumbfounded. I tried to move the non-existent appendage; it felt like it was still there but...

"They couldn't save your leg. We didn't get here in time." He said. The self-loathing in his voice spoke volumes. That's what convinced me more than his words. He looked utterly broken. Kyoya. "It was my fault. I'm sorry." He stood to leave but I tugged his hand back in mine and held it close to my chest.

"D-don't go." I was too shocked to cry or even properly understand the full weight of what he was telling me. "Stay Kyoya."

He almost didn't. I saw the indecision in his eyes, so I held on tighter, hoping if I pleaded hard enough he would stay. In the end I didn't need to. He just sat down on the bed and held my hand.

"How long?" I had to ask. It was a safe question I supposed. I wouldn't have understood anything he told me if my life depended on it. The edges of my vision was darkening and I was suddenly drowsy. I didn't think I could stay awake much longer, I was barely keeping my eyes open.

"Six days and twelve hours." He mumbled, almost to himself. A slender finger reached up and pushed his glasses back into place where they'd been slipping on his nose. He finally- _finally_ looked at me. Eyes expressing something vulnerable which I couldn't read. He opened his mouth to say something. A nurse bustled into the room carrying blankets and humming loudly. He looked away and dropped my hand.

"Oh, you're awake dear!" She looked reproachfully at Kyoya. "Nobody rang for the doctor."

"I told him not to." I lied automatically, really not in the mood to be reprimanded. "Is everyone okay?" I asked Kyoya anxiously, prodding him to talk to me. I wanted to know what he was going to say. It had been important, I could see that. I ignored the nurse. My manners had disappeared somewhere along with my ability to stay awake.

"Darling you shouldn't try and move too soon." She tried to 'mother' me but I shrugged her hands off my shoulder. I swayed, and Kyoya steadied me.

"Melinda, I'm supposed to ask," he licked his lips. His jaw was tense. "Did Jirou... did he..?" He grunted in frustration when he couldn't ask the question. I swallowed and looked at our joined hands.

"I don't know. Sometimes I was conscious...most times I wasn't." I admitted, feeling somehow dirty. Like I needed to get his hands off my body. Like I needed to somehow cut his imprint off my skin. I swallowed, my throat was suddenly dry. A scream died on its way out of my throat. Be calm, it's over now. I bit my lip.

"Is there a shower anywhere?" I interrupted the young nurse before she could say anything. She pursed her lips, annoyed now.

"You can't use it with that leg."

I looked down at what was left of my leg, swathed in bandages. "Leg." I deadpanned. Humor was better than a mental breakdown. "You mean stumpy over here?"

Kyoya let out an involuntary laugh. I tamped down the urge to vomit I'd had when I'd seen the thing and smiled, very aware that he'd gravitated to the end of the bed. As far away from me as possible while still remaining in the small room. I wiped my suddenly sweaty hands on the blankets and didn't look at me. I think I had an inkling as to his sudden behaviour. I wasn't the same. This whole deal, the marriage, everything may as well be completely void now. I was damaged goods. Why would any man want me?

Besides, Kyoya deserved the best. I looked towards the window and the silence in the room stretched awkwardly.

The door opened again and two men walked into the room, shutting the door quietly behind them. My father stood at the door and stared at me like he hadn't seen me in years. His blue eyes closed and tears overflowed. Within seconds he was by my side and gathering my torso carefully in his arms. I leaned against his chest and breathed in his scent, feeling as fragile and happy and utterly relieved as I had when I'd first woken up.

"Oh God, Melinda." He kissed my hair and rubbed my back but didn't hold me too close. Treating me like broken glass.

"Dad, I have never been happier to see you in my life." I said honestly, closing my eyes against Kyoya's mumbled greeting to his father.

He still wasn't looking at me.

"Me too, darling."

I recoiled from the endearment like I'd been stung. He looked at me, worried.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

"No." I said in a small voice. My voice was coming from far away, my body far away in the Host Club room. The feeling of a knife point being dragged cruelly across vulnerable flesh was fresh in my memory. He'd stop, listen to my short, gasping breaths, let me think he was going to break the skin, then chuckle darkly and keep dragging the blade. I'd relax, then he'd penetrate the thin barrier of skin, dig beneath the surface, and slowly cut, like he were slicing bread. I closed my eyes. My whole body shuddered violently.

"Melinda?" I dragged my eyelids open. I wasn't staring into a madman's eyes, I reassured myself. This was my Father. Dad. I was safe, he'd never hurt me. His hand came up to cup my cheek. "Little girl, I know you've been through a lot," tears sprang to his eyes. "But I don't know how to help you if you don't tell me what I'm doing wrong."

I closed my eyes again, suddenly tired. "It's just, that's what he called me. 'Darling'." I said in a voice so low I wasn't sure he heard me. I was slowly drifting off. "Among other things." I mumbled. Gently he lay my head back on the pillow.

Pressing a kiss to my temple he pulled the blankets up over my shoulder, then blinked at me solemnly. "I'll lay off the pet names for a while then."

"Thank you." I said. Then yawned.

"Sleep." He said, watching me with gentle eyes. I didn't resist the pull of sleep. Relinquishing his hand. But as soon as it was gone the fear gripped my heart again and my eyes snapped open.

"Kyoya." I whimpered, more than half asleep now. My hand frantically searched the covers, looking for the familiar cool touch.

"Right here Melinda." The same large hand grasped mine again and I held it desperately letting myself drift back to dreams of bright rooms and dancers.


	16. Chapter 16

**Okay I think this is officially the longest chapter yet. 8,929 words. Count 'em. *dies* But you know what? It makes sense. **

**This is after all the last chapter. *wails* I'm glad I managed to finish it- and I hope you do like the ending. It's open enough to pick up where I left off if I ever want to (which I doubt, but you never know^^) but it also ends comfortably. I won't say anything else- you can read and decide for yourself. But I am inordinately proud that I finished this. **

**Heck, I'm proud I made it past chapter five. *grin***

**But I'm really thankful to everyone who took their time to read this and stuck with it from chapter one. Thank you. To everyone who reviewed and 'alerted' and added this to your favorites- and everyone who simply lurked- you're all awesome! My writing has drastically developed for the better if you look back at the story. It's quite funny :) **

******Thanks if you voted. We all seem to have a similar taste for mischievous red-heads ;) *drools* ****That 'sequel' of sorts shall be on _Kiyoko_. I say 'sequel'. It's really a separate story with a couple of familiar characters cropping up. I may not write it for a while, just because I don't want to go from one project to another too quickly (I won't be as enthusiastic) so I'll do a few one-shots and short stories here an dthere before that.**

***waves* Kinthina- thank you. You are awesome, and I'd never been able to get through that sea of misspellings without you. Awesome, awesome beta-ing :D **

**So for the last time, here I disclaim. And... on with the show.**

**~Mari**

* * *

There was probably something weird about watching someone when they were asleep. In fact, there were laws against it. Something to do with stalking and voyeurism and other incriminating labels which he didn't want to think about right now. The thing was, he didn't think he could actually leave. He got… paranoid when he spent extended periods of time away from her. Like by letting her out of his sight, it would happen all over again. Ridiculous, yes he knew. This would have been amusing, if it weren't so serious. He took off his glasses carefully with his injured hand. He avoided looking at it too much. It always inspired disturbingly uncontrollable hysterical laughter.

He punched Jirou's face in, and got a few torn up knuckles and some bruising? While she was half dead? He didn't know what he felt.

The way he was behaving was growing increasingly pathetic. He couldn't even… look at her. Not when she was awake. It inspired the kind of intense emotion he usually equated with the heroes of trashy romance novels. And though he would poke his eyes out with a spoon before entertaining the notion that he was in any way like those two-dimensional cardboard cut-outs, he had to admit that of late he was beginning to see more of their tendency towards the dramatic within himself than he would like.

He rubbed his face feeling strangely depressed. Bad enough that Fuyumi actually made him read the damn things (Something about making him sensitive to women's needs. Although when he thought of women's 'needs' his mind drifted to tampons and other things that honestly? A man should simply leave well enough alone.)

He just couldn't figure out… why. No, that was wrong, he'd figured it out. He'd read enough of those novels to know that he'd fallen in the same trap they all had, somehow whilst still remaining blithely unaware. Which, he'd always considered inherently stupid- how could you _not_ know how you felt?-though he supposed clichés were clichés for a reason. He loved her. Or as close to it as he could anyway for an emotionally deprived child with no clear concept of what the word 'love' actually meant. Or what it looked like. Or how it felt.

He turned his glasses over and rubbed them with his sleeve, replacing them on his face unthinkingly. He felt like he was five again, all legs and arms with really bad asthma and not a single friend. Not since Tamaki had he felt so utterly confused, probably worse because this time it wasn't just frustration at someone as inherently different from him as it was possible to be- it was Melinda. How did he put her into words?

She was like him. Except when she wasn't. And shy. Except when she was outgoing. Reserved, but also so colorful and bright sometimes it made his eyes hurt to look at her. It was like she was everything- everything he'd ever looked for without ever looking for it.

And now all this sentimentality was literally bringing what little food he'd been able to stomach back up his esophagus.

He knew without a doubt that falling in love was possibly the worst business decision he'd ever made in his life. There were far too many variables and inconsistencies. The most glaringly obvious being that it was highly unlikely that his feelings were reciprocated while the most terrifying being that, well, he didn't trust this. It was his experience that nothing good ever lasted. Even the Host Club wouldn't be his for much longer. Not to mention the fact it would probably affect his ability to suitably charm the girls who frequented the Host Club. How was he supposed to be Prince 'handsome-dashing-charming' when he only felt like being that way for one girl?

Fidelity was a disgusting thing.

His desire to adhere to it religiously was even more vomit-inducing. What was wrong with him?

He was a Host. He made it his business to make people fall in love with him. He was quite good at it, there was no point talking around it or being modest. He could spot infatuation growing from the first flicker of interest in a girl's eyes and he knew how to fan the flames of that infatuation. After all, he had a business to run, and he needed to do anything it took to make sure it ran smoothly. If that made him a bad person then so be it.

It wasn't personal, it was just good business. 'Nice' didn't come into the equation. For three years he'd watched girls move from one Host to another. Fickle and insincere. They'd all professed love for him at some point or other, but it never lasted past a few months. And he understood that, it made sense to him.

This didn't. The worst thing was, he was afraid. Because what if he woke up one morning and this feeling was gone, just as suddenly as it had materialized. He grunted in frustration, biting his lip when he saw her stir.

"You okay kid?" Richard asked gently, walking in the room quietly so he didn't wake Melinda. "You look like hell warmed over."

Kyoya looked up. That made sense. He _felt_ like hell. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten something more substantial than a cracker, but he wasn't hungry. His body felt strangely _separate_ from him. "I'm fine."

_Richard's P.O.V_

Richard looked at the boy skeptically. "No you're not." Richard said, sitting on one of the hospital chairs. He could swear they made those things uncomfortable on purpose so people wouldn't linger in the wards. A quick glance told him his daughter hadn't found any new life-threatening danger- her tendency to do that would give him a heart attack before he saw fifty- he turned his attention on the boy who, he'd been told, had refused to leave for the last three nights. Kyoya was sitting next to the bed with a piece of folded paper in his hands he'd been reading and re-reading over and over again for the past couple of days. He was watching Melinda with an air of composure that Richard didn't believe for a second. Not for one second.

His gaze had the boy squirming in his seat. Which was relatively new. Kyoya never 'squirmed', he just didn't. He didn't writhe uncomfortably or avert his eyes, or be anything other than utterly composed in the face of scrutiny. Kyoya sighed. Well there certainly was a first time for anything, but his propensity for finding himself in emotionally charged situations was disturbing him.

"Why do you say that?" He asked flatly.

Richard raised a disbelieving eye. "Anybody with eyes and a brain would draw the same conclusion." Although with that said, most people couldn't even claim that much. "Now why don't you tell me what's wrong, son? Aside from the obvious."

"That's not enough?" Kyoya asked skeptically. "I assumed that would have been adequate to traumatize anyone."

"But you're not just anyone." Richard pointed out. "Ootori's are made of sterner stuff than that, I've known your father long enough to know that, and I think you're the same. There's something else bothering you." He said simply stared out of the window and fell silent, leaving the topic open and the ball firmly in his court.

Kyoya knew that tactic. He'd used it often to get something out of Fuyumi. It didn't exactly inspire euphoria to have the same technique used against him. But it filled him with a strange sense of pride to know it worked so well.

"Not to disappoint you, but the inane musings of a teenage boy are hardly the drama you're making them out to be." He said wryly. "You'd have more luck wringing some sense out of these doctors."

"They do all seem to be rather moronic in nature." Richard agreed, noting that he really had to see whoever managed this hospital as soon as possible. Their treatment had been appalling. Only yesterday he'd had to disillusion a young nurse of the notion that they would be taking Melinda home sooner than advised simply because she'd opened her eyes. And what about a relapse? Well… she hadn't argued much after he'd threatened her job if his daughter's health declined.

Yes, he could be a bastard when necessary.

"Thank heavens this isn't one of our hospitals. The standards here are simply unacceptable." Kyoya said in disgust. "Melinda woke up in the middle of the night in pain and it took half an hour for a nurse to come and sedate her. I could have…"

"Sued somebody?" Richard asked, a twitch of his lips betraying his amusement.

"Yes." Kyoya said darkly.

Richard just shook his head. "I see so much of your father in you." He mused aloud. Kyoya stiffened and set his lips in a grim line. Richard frowned but didn't push it, watching the rise and fall of Melinda's chest.

"I'd rather you didn't." Kyoya said finally. "He's not someone I aspire to emulate."

Now that was worrying. He sat up in his chair and looked closely at the boy.

"Is that simply a statement, or is there a reason behind it."

He saw the boy's eyes flick almost imperceptibly to his daughter and smiled.

"There's a reason." Kyoya said quietly but firmly. He didn't offer an explanation. Richard didn't ask for one. The silence stretched and molded itself to the room. Fitting comfortably with the sharp smell of disinfectant and the cool medicinal smell that hospitals always stunk of.

"You know son, it is incredible how often intelligent men let good things slip away." He said thoughtfully. "For any number of reasons. I've done it, your father's done it, and you will too, eventually." He watched Kyoya carefully, smiling a little when the boy caught his eye. "What you have to decide is whether the regret will be worth it. Because I assure you, there will always be regret."

He looked meaningfully at his daughter, cataloguing every breath taken as something precious. He stood and made to leave. If he had to let her go to anybody, at least he was sure the bespectacled boy was doing the same.

"Sir?" Kyoya asked, puzzled. "I'm not sure I understand."

Richard smiled. "I know. You will, though. Give it time." He turned and opened the door. "Just for the record son, if you're still looking to be my son-in-law, the position's wide open." He grinned, and walked out.

* * *

By the time morning came around Kiyoko wasn't quite sure what had happened to the night. She didn't remember how she'd got to bed, much less what she did yesterday or why she was wearing her pyjamas inside out and lying on a pile of newspapers. What she was absolutely certain of was the fact that downstairs her parents were still talking far too loudly for a Monday morning and it was a week since she'd lost her last job. She sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, she couldn't keep the shop open much longer. Not when she was so broke.

She found herself wishing she was still on the yacht drinking gratuitous amounts of wine, being force fed so much rich food it would give her indigestion, and generally having the best time she'd had in twenty-four years. The hangover she'd had from that night had manifested itself as a migraine of terrifying proportions which had left her incapacitated for most of the day. Before her mother had forced her to drive Aiko to her dojo for Kendo practice and she'd been forced to listen to her little sister wax poetic about some boy she was training with.

She'd left puberty far, far behind her and was not going to relive it through her loquacious kid sister. That was not happening.

Terrible as it may sound, she really could care less about her sister's love life. Especially when her brain was trying to force its way out of her head by doing its best impression of a jackhammer. She fought the urge to cry. It was silly, she knew. It wasn't as if she could control what happened. These things just came and went, good luck, bad luck. Shop, no shop. Didn't matter that it took five years to set the damn thing up.

Don't have hysterics over spilt milk… or something.

She stumbled out of bed and made her way groggily to the bathroom in the hall, trying not to look at her appearance too much in the mirror because she didn't think her poor, abused heart could take that kind of shock that early in the morning.

By rights she was supposed to be using her twenties to ingest obscene amounts of alcohol, try as many drugs as she could before she reached her peak, sleep around as much as possible with every guy who made himself available and generally party her way through life trying to accumulate as few STDs as possible.

Except that had never been her. She'd never been much of a party girl. Or a junkie. Or an alcoholic. Or a walking herpes bank. Driven, determined. That's what she'd been. She'd wanted to be a chef for too long to get side-tracked by stupid things. It was a dream that she'd had for… God, she didn't know how long now. But she wanted it. With every fiber of her being.

"Time to pick up a new hobby, kiddo." She told her reflection morosely. At least the glass didn't crack. That was something.

When she deemed herself presentable to the rest of society she wandered downstairs, crumpled newspaper clippings in hand- which turned out to be job advertisements. Perhaps there was hope for her yet.

"Were have ye been?" Her mother demanded when she stepped into the kitchen, hands on hips, legs akimbo. "I've been calling ye fer ages. Now yer Da' has gone and done you a favor. Tell her Tim." She waved at her husband to speak and busied herself at the stove. Kiyoko sat at the table, somewhat confused.

"I went and found ye a job, my girl." He grinned proudly, buttering his toast. "Ye know the fast food restaurant down in the market? The new one?"

No, no. Oh please God, say he didn't.

"Yer old Da' went and pulled a few strings and manage to get ye a job down there flipping buns or summat. Pay's pretty good. For that sort of thing." He grinned widely.

She knew she hadn't always been the most religious person but she'd start! She'd pray every day. She'd say her 'Hail Mary's' every hour on the hour. She'd go to confession every day for the next two months.

She wouldn't even lie to the priest. Promise.

Just don't let him actually mean he had got her job selling cholesterol in a bun.

"…Ye start tomorrow. Isn't that great?" He was smiling widely. How exactly was she supposed to say no- without saying no. She knew her Da'. He was so sensitive it was ridiculous. If she said outright she didn't want the job he'd walk around the house looking like a kicked puppy for weeks.

The man could guilt trip anyone.

Which is probably why she said what she did next.

"But Da', I already have a job." She mentally slapped herself on the forehead the minute the words left her mouth, calling herself all kinds of fool.

He paused, toast halfway to his mouth and looked at her in surprise. "Ye do?" He asked.

"When did this happen?" Her mother asked suspiciously, turning away from the stove to look at her. She was going to lie to her parents. She was going to burn in hell for this.

"I told ye Ma'. About the Hitachiin twins?"

"Aye," her mother said. "I remember you telling me how they cost you yer job."

She swallowed, avoiding her mother's glare.

"No, not at all." The look she was being fixed with was enough to inspire terror in the toughest of men. Stalin had nothing on her Ma'. "Well, okay yeah they did. But they offered me a job too."

"As what? Their cook? Because I happen to know they hired-"

"As their maid." Kiyoko interrupted before her Ma' could get properly angry and start threatening to take a wooden spoon to her backside. She would too. "They offered me a job, seeing as they lost me my old one."

There was surprised silence. Her Da' recovered quicker. "Come on Louise, congratulate the girl. She's working for on of the most influential families in Japan. We need to be happy for her- our daughter's going places." He stood walked across the table and hugged her tight.

"I'm proud of ye girl."

"Thanks Da'." She rubbed his back awkwardly and avoided her Ma's sharp eyes. She hoped the Hitachiin's generosity- or amusement, whichever was predominant- was still valid... and that she hadn't lost the stupid card they'd given her.

Was there a special place in hell for people who lied to their parents? Not that she'd never done it before.

She'd just never done it so badly.

* * *

"I would like to assure you," Kyoya started quietly. "That whatever you're thinking of doing right now would be best left until after she is coherent enough to understand what it is you're shoving under her nose to be signed. She's barely lucid. Not fit, you'll agree, to give consent to anything."

"Ah, of… of course." The young doctor said wondering why the mere sight of the boy set fear roiling in his chest. "I'll...I'll just come back later then."

"Yes. I think that would be a good idea." Kyoya said, fixing the man with a stare so lethal he was sure if looks could kill he'd be a liquidated mess on the floor. Bobbing his head at the bespectacled boy he left the room as fast as humanly possible whilst still retaining some semblance of dignity.

Melinda stared after him, groggy and dazed. It would be accurate to say that Kyoya was just this side of enraged with a healthy dose of righteous anger thrown in there for good measure. He couldn't believe the man had tried to get her to sign release forms- _release forms_- whilst she was in a state where he strongly doubted she could even remember her own name.

She giggled. "Hey Kyoya, you know that guy?" She slurred drunkenly. He sighed and propped another pillow behind her back to stop her head lolling all over the place. The last thing she needed was something else to add to her catalogue of injuries.

"What about him?"

"I think he pissed himself." She laughed. Kyoya fought very hard to stop his jaw from dropping. Scratch that, never mind remember her name, she evidently didn't remember her age either.

"He might've done, yes." He couldn't resist smirking a little. "Don't worry though, he's a big boy. He'll clean up his own messes."

"Mom said I wet the bed 'till I was four." She held up four fingers. God, he wasn't actually having this conversation with her was he? "She said it was 'cause I was scared of the dark. Sometimes, I'm still scared of the dark." She said, as though entrusting a great confidence in him.

Kyoya stared. Was there some way he was supposed to respond? Evidently she required one. Well, for what he was paying to go to Ouran he was discovering a large hole in his education. Namely, on how to hold conversation with someone so high on painkillers they'd regressed to age four.

"That's… nice." He finally settled for. Which didn't seem to be the right answer judging by her skeptical look, but she let it go so it must've been okay.

"Really? 'Cause when I told Danyl she said it was stupid to be scared of the dark when you're four. She said only babies were scared of the dark."

Dear sweet Jesus, this wasn't happening to him. Did she need a girl to talk to or something? He could do that. He could get Fuyumi down here right now if he had to. Or a shrink. Whichever was required.

"But I think Danyl's just sad because her sister doesn't sleep in the same room as her anymore." Melinda said, suddenly seeming somewhat more… mature. "They do everything together you know. Kinda like you and Tamaki." She smiled.

"Really?" He said, forcing himself to calm down. Nothing would happen to him, it was just a little conversation. Nothing he'd never done before. Currently, it felt like he was conversing with a certifiable madwoman, but it was conversation nonetheless.

"Yeah. I've never had a friend like that. You're really lucky Kyoya." He looked at her sharply, something in her voice had sounded strangely… coherent. Whatever it had been though, had seemingly passed.

The matter-of-fact statement tugged at him nonetheless.

She was looking around now. She'd noticed the flowers. The whole room was filled with them, top to bottom. From 'friends' and admirers. Most of them were from the combined efforts of Kyoya's own father and Fuyumi. A large bouquet of daffodils sat by her bedside.

"Those are from your class." He supplied helpfully. "They came by to see you when you were asleep."

"Well that was stupid." She wrinkled her nose, as if she found the very thought funny. "Why not come see me when I'm awake?"

"I don't think they thought about it that way." He smiled indulgently, getting the hang of it.

"Well they should have." She stated. She reached out and grasped the stem of a flower, pulling it out of its vase and holding it up to the light. She didn't seem to do it with conscious thought. Kyoya put the vase just out of reach. He didn't trust her not to accidentally break it and cut herself. "The flowers are very pretty." She brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply. Then put it back on the table beside her bed. "But I don't think I like them."

He looked up from where he was trying to arrange her tray of somewhat sentient hospital food and wondering if it was actually fit for human consumption. He tilted his head to the side and watched her struggle for coherency through the cocktail of painkillers she was pumped with.

"Why not?" He asked, finding that he was honestly curious.

She stared at the tulip, not really seeing it. "Because, people only give you flowers at funerals." She said sadly.

* * *

Of course, things didn't suddenly change for the better. There were still a few lingering screw-ups, I had around three or four doctors around me every day and I'd resigned myself somewhat to the fact that I'd never be allowed to do as much as breathe without a chaperone. Ever again. Everyone was pretty unmoving on this point, and for all my protests, I was somewhat relieved.

I'd been having nightmares. Understandable I suppose. It's not likely many people escape life-threatening situations without being scarred in some way. Be it emotionally, physically, or even simply the fact that I couldn't stand pet names. I really couldn't. I'd almost bitten my Dad's head off for calling me 'darling' again, and I felt bad about it. I did. I just… it made my flesh crawl in all sorts of ways and made me feel violated all over again.

I couldn't endure that all over again. I just couldn't.

"It's okay Melinda." He'd said, pushing my hair out of my face. "Really, it's fine. You just need some time."

Except he knew and I knew that was a blatant lie. I've begun to deeply mistrust anybody who tried to approach me with lines such as 'everything heals with time'. Or 'one day you'll look back on all of this like a bad dream.'

They'd had to sedate me again after a nurse had said that to me and I'd lunged for her neck. She didn't fucking know what she was talking about. Let her be kidnapped, beaten and betrayed. Then we'd talk. Until then the sight of her made me want to do very violent things to her general person. Maybe 'time' would numb the memory, and perhaps I'd move on with my life. I was already beginning to, a little. It happened, I couldn't change it, so I would do my best to live with it.

That didn't mean it would go away. I refused to delude myself.

Raped. It's such an ugly word to look at, to think about. Everybody had been tiptoeing around me since I'd been lucid enough to understand what the hell they were talking about. I wouldn't speak to the male nurses or orderlies or doctors, and thankfully they seemed to understand that. I was currently sitting in the room alone, trying not to think about the starch sheets scratching my… leg. Singular. I swallowed. That was taking some getting used to.

I was pointedly not thinking about it.

Kyoya was sitting in that same chair he'd been in every time I woke up. I knew my memory was unreliable, what with the fact I'd fallen sporadically in and out of consciousness since I was admitted into the hospital, but I could swear he'd been wearing the same vest and jeans combo when I'd woken up two days ago. Did he go home at all? He must have at some point, but the heavy bags under his eyes suggested otherwise. Even in sleep he was perfectly controlled, head held stiffly upright, back ramrod straight.

It was admirable, that someone could actually fall asleep in such an impossibly uncomfortable position. I smiled a little, kind of gratified that he would stay with me so vigilantly, yet sad too because from what I understood he seemed to be doing this out of some misguided sense of guilt. Which, understandably negated some of my good-will towards him.

Still, it seemed a little ungrateful to just let him give himself a neck injury after everything he'd been through for me. I didn't want to wake him up. He seemed so peaceful, just sleeping there. He was actually pouting. I shook my head in amusement. So much for Mr. Ruthless Businessman.

With great difficulty and growing frustration I levered myself off the bed and swung my leg over the edge. More difficult than it sounds.

I never realized how much I actually relied on that leg for balance.

Steadying myself I set my foot on the ground and took my hands off the bed. Bad idea, I admit, but I claim temporary insanity. I ended up face-planting myself on the floor. I scrunched my eyes closed. Shit, that hurt like a bitch. It felt like I'd broken everything all over again. Kyoya's eyes shot open and he was off the chair and kneeling beside me practically before I'd had time to register what was happening.

"Melinda! What the hell are you trying to do?" He exclaimed. I groaned, no response immediately coming to mind. He checked me methodically, running his hands lightly over my leg, knee and ribs before finally examining my head gently with the tips of his fingers. I stayed still and let him get it over with.

"You seem to be none the worse for wear." He decided finally. Looking somewhere over my shoulder. Not in my eyes. Never in my eyes.

I'd decided that the only possible reason Kyoya was behaving that way was because he was disgusted by me. His eyes were carefully blank, betraying nothing. I'd never realized how sensitive I was to body language. Or perhaps not everybody's body language. Perhaps… just his.

"Everything seems to be in the right place." I propped myself up on my elbows and groaned. "Mostly." I amended. "It kind of feels like my brain's trying to force itself out of my head. But other than that it's all good."

"Good to know." He seemed to be trying not to smile. He yawned, displaying just how tired he was. I made no effort to move, just staring at him from my uncomfortable place on the floor. I debated internally whether to loudly vocalize my displeasure at the current situation or address Kyoya on his about something inane before my mouth decided it for me. Helpfully, it did so before my brain could slip back into place.

"Am I really so terrible to look at?" I asked quietly, vulnerably. He only glanced up, barely inclining his head.

"What?" He asked tiredly.

I closed my eyes in self-deprecating amusement. "I'm merely referring to the fact that you don't seem capable of keeping eye-contact for more than two seconds. I haven't had much of a chance to examine myself in great detail, but have I changed that much? Am I sickening to look at?"

"Are you honestly asking me if you're ugly?" He deadpanned. "Because if so then I can assure you that you have better things to worry about."

"Of course I do." I said, opening my eyes. "But I'm not thinking about them right now. I'm more worried about the fact that my… best friend doesn't seem capable of having a normal conversation with me."

He seemed somewhat stumped by that. "Best friend?" He asked.

"Yes." I said bluntly. "Oh, don't worry you aren't required to say it back. I know you and Tamaki have that whole 'shonen-ai' thing going for you, and far be it for me to contravene." I added, some of my old fire coming back.

"I am never letting you near anime ever again." Kyoya muttered darkly, running a hand through his hair.

"Just try and stop me." I smiled weakly. "And I'm not likely to forget that you're dodging the question." I said meaningfully. He looked at me for a long moment.

"Does it really matter what I, or anybody else thinks? You're safe and alive, and all things considered things could have been far worse."

"How?" I asked. Honestly confused. It had seemed _pretty _bad to me at the time. Kyoya looked away, a pained look on his face.

"...I'm sorry Melinda." He said eventually. "I didn't know he… can you ever forgive me?" He asked quietly.

I stared, stunned. So that's what had been wrong? He thought that… that I..? "What?" I asked, blinking in confusion. My head started to throb painfully but I ignored it.

"I realize that even in spite of all this, you're a good person. You're trying to make it easier on me and I appreciate that. But you don't have to resort to calling me your 'best friend'. If you're angry," he swallowed. "I understand."

"No you don't." I said quietly. He winced.

"Yes I know but-"

"No Kyoya, I mean you honestly don't have a clue, do you?" I interrupted. "You think I'm… that I'm mad at you? That I blame you for this?" I asked incredulously.

"I do." He was staring out of the window at the cool evening. Crickets and cicadas chirped under my window sill. It was a quiet night.

"For someone so intelligent… you're dense sometimes." I forced myself to lower my voice.

Yelling wouldn't help things, no matter how much I wanted to drill it into his head that he was stupid, and there was really no way in hell I could blame him for this. I was beginning to really hate this 'love' stuff. I'd have thought that note would have been sufficient to assure him of how neatly he had me wrapped around his little finger. Even now, he may as well have hung the moon in the sky, I'd have still looked at him with the same disgusting adoration. Was that the word? Well it didn't matter I supposed.

Apparently he was more dense than I'd anticipated.

"I could never blame you for this." I said slowly, trying to make sure he understood. "I don't know if you were there or not, but Kyoya you saved me. If it weren't for you there wouldn't have been enough of me left to save."

He looked at me sharply. "Did you hear the police report at all?"

"That he admitted that he'd intended to rape and kill me?" I asked. "It was kind of hard to miss when he was shouting it around in the courtroom for the whole bloody world to hear."

Kyoya sighed and rubbed his face, tired. "Why are you treating this so flippantly? Is this a joke to you?" He demanded. "If Nekozawa hadn't decided to run around the school that night…"

"Then what?" I asked him. "He was there. He found me and now I'm here. You can't play 'what if' Kyoya." I said gently.

"I beg to differ." He said stubbornly. "I should've gone through every eventuality before now."

"So you're actually blaming yourself?" I asked incredulously. "For something that your brother did?"

He froze, eyes locked on mine. "Exactly, Melinda. My brother."

I took a breath and calmed myself. There was no point in getting angry, I told myself. Even when he had absolutely no right to go blaming himself over something like this. No right at all. I hate stubborn people, I really do. They always think they're right and it would take something short of the invention of 'memory erasers' to get Kyoya to relent on this one. I could see that.

"You can't atone for your brother's sins." I told him.

"No." He agreed, looking down. "But I can try to make them right." I 'tsked' in frustration. He just wasn't getting it. Fine, he wanted me to be blunt? I could do blunt.

"Could you lean down a little?" I asked innocently and held out my hand. He bent to take it, and I didn't really think. I pulled him down towards me turned my head, and found his lips.

Now don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I was trying to initiate a make-out session right there on the hospital floor. I don't know what I was doing, there wasn't much actual _thought_ involved in the decision making process. It just seemed like the right thing to do. It... felt like it too. I gently brushed his lips with my own, let them linger, then pulled away to see his shocked expression. My face flushed, my cheeks burning as though someone had turned on a furnace.

"Frankly Kyoya I don't think you can make it better, I just want you to be there. No more guilt." I blushed and looked down. Utilizing the shocked silence I'd been provided with. "And you're right, I don't care what 'anybody else' thinks, but I do care what you think." I said sincerely, biting my lip. He blinked at me but recovered far quicker than I could have expected, a faint tinge coloring his own cheeks. Don't suddenly tell him you love him. You'll probably scare him off and anyway, it would be rather redundant. "I care what you think a great deal." I admitted quietly.

And then he did, he looked at me. His eyes were ringed with dark bags, the by-product of too little sleep. But something in me sang because the look in his eye hadn't really changed. Still somewhat guarded and aloof, but with a warm quality that I'd mourned the absence of without knowing. He really was beautiful, with his hair shining about seven different shades of black and blue.

He offered me his hand again and I took it. "You'll never get out of here if you don't look after yourself properly." He admonished. "That means no more launching yourself off the bed like a demented rabbit." He smiled. A beatific expression that had the butterfly circus in my stomach doing cartwheels. "And no more talk of how attractive I do or don't find you. I will not tolerate heavy emotional probing when I can't even remember which way is up." He bit his lip and looked away. I blinked. That was... promising.

He practically picked me up and put me back on the bed with surprising ease. I worked my way under the covers again with great difficulty. Neither of us was quite aware of our surroundings and I had to constantly fight the urge to touch my lips with the tips of my fingers. A tad obvious wouldn't you agree?

"Sleep, we're going home tomorrow." He coughed, clearing his throat.

Home. Now that sounded very nice.

"Yes sir." I rested my head on the pillow, feeling a little like someone had filled me with helium and I was about to fly away. "But only if I get a bedtime story."

He blinked, but didn't comment. I suppose he was having trouble focusing on the conversation as well. I reveled in the thought. "Did you have anything in mind?" He sighed. Looking at me indulgently with his hands in his pockets and his face unreadable.

"How about the one where the girl acts stupid and has an argument with her fiancé but she's very sorry and she'll try harder to not be a total douche in future?" I asked quietly.

He looked at me speculatively, and then sat down on the bed beside me. Then took my hand in his, looking at me, giving me enough opportunity to shake him off. I didn't. "Really? I must have heard a different one then. The way I remember it, the girl's fiancé was a stressed, aloof bastard who acted like a jerk and hopes she can forgive him a moment of immaturity." He looked at me.

I smiled. "Well, they sound perfect for each other."

* * *

Melinda didn't even try and pretend she was okay. She didn't understand why she had to go to court and testify for a case that any court of law could see was open and shut. The thing was taped for fuck's sake. Caught on camera.

Excuse the French, but this was bullshit.

The room was small and crowded and outside she didn't want to think about the sea of paparazzi that was waiting for them. It wasn't something that could be handled simply with a 'no comment' and a pair of dark glasses. Nekozawa was sitting with her father, generally looking as uncomfortable as she was in a dark suit, sans puppet. He'd been forced to forgo the long robe. Something about a dress code.

She drew a shaky breath, palms sweating profusely. She didn't know what to say. She didn't think she could say anything to such a large audience. Tears pricked her eyelids. She wanted to go home.

Nobody else had been allowed inside the actual court-room. Only the people involved, and a few dozen news reporters who were broadcasting everything live. You learned not to pay much attention to those things though. They sort of became background noise.

The judge was a woman who wouldn't look her directly in the eye, preferring to stare at whatever documents she had on her desk. Jirou was sitting with the defense attorney looking every inch the honorable slighted businessman… except he was an honorable, slighted businessman with possible brain damage. He had a bandage wrapped around his head and was staring at her with venom in his eyes. Her heart sped up.

She couldn't look at him. Instead she looked at Kyoya, sitting in almost the exact same pose. Except when he caught her eye, he leaned forward and nodded slightly. Encouraging her to finish. Everyone was there. Tamaki and Haruhi, the twins, Honey and Mori, her father. Even, surprisingly enough, Mr. Ootori.

"What happened next Miss Redmond?"

She swallowed. "T-then he took his knife and cut open my shirt and bra and tried to touch me." Her lawyer looked triumphantly at the defense attorney. Not that there was any doubt as to who was going to win this case. She refused to cry. She could get through this, she had to. She adjusted her seat in the wheelchair and tried to speak around the lump forming in her throat. She trained her eyes on Kyoya, and reminded herself of the importance of breathing.

_Two Weeks Later... At School_

"Whoever invented stairs deserves to be shot." I decided, breathing heavily as I settled myself on one of the sinfully comfortable chairs in the Host Club. "That, or you seriously need to invest in an elevator."

"I'll make a note of it." Kyoya said drily. I looked up and smiled.

"And while you're at it, make a note of the fact that it's not fair to force the cripple to work for three hours on a school day, you slave driver."

"I apologize, however it's rather difficult finding errands less tasking than simply answering a phone." He deadpanned. "I will endeavor to do better."

"You do that."

Hikaru blinked at us owlishly, followed closely by his twin. "Oi, are you two…"

"… Flirting?"

"Save it for the clients Senpai." Hikaru said sternly.

I blushed and fought the urge to hide my face in my hands. I couldn't simply have a moment of peace to myself could I? Kyoya merely looked mildly irritated.

"Would you go away if I said please?" I begged.

"Now, now Mel-kun. That's not very nice, ne?"

"Not very nice at all. We're only trying to make you feel welcome."

Bit late there boys. Hikaru looked at me out of the corner of his eye, an apologetic glance he'd been giving me a lot lately. I think that was his way of saying he was wrong about it. I always smiled and received it as graciously as I could. God knows I wasn't going to get an _actual_ apology.

"As the first Official Girlfriend of the Host Club-"

"Whoa, stop right there." I held up my hands and arched a single eyebrow. After hours under Kyoya's expert tutelage I was now cynically raising brows left and right with the best of them. "Since when did I get a title?"

"Since you're one of us Mel-kun." Honey said sweetly, sitting on the floor beside me and resting his head in my lap. I stroked his blond curls back from his face. "Don't you like it?"

"Well," I sighed. "I appreciate the sentiment, but surely you could do better than _that_."

"You don't like it?" Hikaru pouted.

"We spent ages on it." Kaoru joined, looking just as pathetic.

"You're clever. You'll figure something out." I refused to give in.

Especially considering I wasn't even actually his girlfriend. Not by a long shot. When we'd left the hospital it was like that conversation had just been a realistic dream. But I was certain it had happened. I didn't want to entertain the notion that I'd dreamed it or that he was choosing to forget because it had taken a heck of a lot of courage to kiss him in the first place. From time to time, there were moments, when I thought I could see what he thought of me so _clearly_. When I thought his eyes carried something of his emotional depth.

Then he'd tell me something mundane about the Host Club, or school or something and… the moment would be gone just like that. It was immensely frustrating.

"Mel-kun, does this still hurt?" Honey stared at my prosthetic with childish interest. I looked at it. You know, apart from the fact that I couldn't feel anything in it, I could almost fool myself into believing it was the real deal too.

"Sometimes when I walk. But it's getting better." I twisted it this way and that. It really was done very well. The best that money could buy. Kyoya's money in fact. Wouldn't let me or Dad pay for some reason. "It looks pretty real doesn't it?"

Suddenly everyone was crowded around it, staring at it like it was a strange and rare species.

Hikaru poked it with his index finger. "It feels weird. Mel, did it hurt when they sawed off your leg?"

Tamki's face went pure white. Haruhi glanced at him anxiously, saw he was fine, then shrugged and looked away. I caught her eye and shared a brief knowing smile with her.

"I don't know." I deadpanned. "Considering how I was unconscious and everything. But yes, I do imagine it would hurt quite a bit. Definitely a 'don't try this at home' kind of thing."

"Did you keep the rest of your leg?" Kaoru asked enthusiastically. I resisted the urge to project vomit all over his pristine, designer uniform. Yes, designer. Only in Ouran.

"No." I said firmly. He frowned.

"Well then what do they do with-"

"Enough." Kyoya interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Go, get into your costumes, you have five minutes until everybody arrives."

"Ooh, cranky." Hikaru muttered.

"Relationship issues. He's quite emotionally stunted." Kaoru said wisely. I watched a vein throb in Kyoya's forehead ominously.

"Ah." Hikaru nodded, enlightened. Then turned to face Kyoya seriously. "Now just remember, she was mine first and I can still call dibs whenever I want."

"Excuse me?" I spluttered.

Hikaru just smirked and threw a long arm around my shoulders. "Don't act like you don't know. We had something special." His face was way too close to mine. This was not even vaguely comfortable. "Remember, you, me, Valentine's day, a chocolate swan..." He looked off somewhere in the distance, lost in a happy memory. "I wouldn't mind more of those by the way." He said thoughtfully.

"Your legs function much better than mine. Go buy some yourself."

"But you're my Cu-u-pid!" He whined in my ear. "It's not the same!" Yeah, my hearing would never be the same either. I winced at the volume and resigned myself to going deaf prematurely, i.e before I'm forty.

Kyoya looked irritated. "Hikaru, Kaoru. Go. Now."

The twins looked at him, unimpressed. "Sure, let's leave the couple alone Kaoru. Kyoya's getting jealous." Hikaru smirked, sauntering away before Kyoya could hurt him. "Enjoy the ball and chain, Mother."

Kyoya really does deserve an award for surviving three years with those two without committing murder or manslaughter or whatever.

Everyone scattered immediately, a wailing Tamaki searching frantically for his eye-drops- 'how else will I be able to properly portray the anguish of my soul'- and running to claim a changing room lest he be stuck changing in the en-suite.

Then there were two.

Kyoya cleared his throat in embarrassment, apparently realizing he'd just effectively got us alone. I thanked God for his brilliance. Or stupidity. Whichever.

"Kyoya, do you have some time?" I started hesitantly. How exactly does one go about wooing ones unattainably aloof fiancé?

He looked up from his clipboard, a vertical black line forming between his brows. My bottom lip disappeared into my mouth. "What's wrong?" He asked.

I shook my head quickly. "Nothing's _wrong_… I just wanted to talk to you?"

He looked at me like I'd grown another head. "I was under the impression that we _were_ talking." I was stumped for a long moment until I realized he was only joking and attempted to throw a pillow at him. He stepped to the side and looked at it.

"Your aim really sucks." He informed me.

"No, really?" I gasped. He looked at me.

"And sarcasm doesn't suit you."

"Aim and sarcasm. Got it." I smiled. "You want to let me say something now?"

"By all means." He gestured.

"Um…" I twisted my fingers in my lap. Damn, but this was hard. I wanted to do it, had planned on doing it for such a long time. And what's the worst he could do, reject me? I was still going to be his wife for goodness' sake. You know, sometime in the far future. Very, very far.

I'm talking 'light-years and galaxies' stuff.

I took a deep breath and very pointedly did not look at him.

"I got these tickets, to the Opera on Saturday. And I don't really like Opera that much, but I was wondering if you'd like to go with me?" Come on, say it. Just say it. "Like a… like a date." I finished softly.

He was quiet for long enough for me to have doubts. Long enough for me to start to fantasize about braining myself on the edge of the coffee table in front of us to see if it could work as a memory eraser. Shit, shit, shit, fuck. Shit…

"I'm sure we can work something out." He said coolly, the epitome of calm and controlled. "Saturday did you say?"

"Yeah, around eight o' clock?" I bit my lip, deliriously happy and almost about to float away. "We can maybe have dinner after? Or we can have dinner before if you like. Or we could just skip dinner altogether- I don't mind I just- I think I'll stop talking now." I bit my lip, face becoming uncomfortably hot.

He smiled at me with his eyes, dark and shining behind the glare of his glasses. He pushed them up the bridge of his nose with one slender finger and wrote something down in his clipboard.

"Dinner and a show it is then." He said, and went to welcome the first guests.

I sat there in a state of catatonic shock. Oh my God. I actually did it.

And he said yes.

I asked him out on a_ date_.

And he said _yes_.

My only regret was that I didn't have the freedom to express my fanatic happiness by dancing spastically around the room. That would be just a tad unseemly. Just a tad.

Dizzy with crazy euphoria I melted in my own happiness for a moment, marveling at the fact I'd managed to make any of that make sense. But I'd done it, and now I had a date- an actual date- with Kyoya. Perhaps a little late in coming- as I understand, usually people tend to do the whole dating thing before hearing wedding bells. That is, 'normal' people wait. Ouran students? We'd never been much the same as ordinary people.

I smiled to myself and snuck a glance at him out of my peripherals. It was early days yet, perhaps too early to tell. But I thought we'd be fine.

Now I just needed to get tickets for the Opera and pray there was one in town and actually showing on Saturday night. Movie, that's what I'd meant to say. 'Movie'. And that somehow translated into 'Opera'?

Please God, let there be an Opera _somewhere_ in Tokyo.

**THE END**


End file.
